Our Kind of Life
by likes-it-bubbly
Summary: Triggered by The Heartbroken Bride. Perry is invited to his niece's wedding. Who else would he bring but Della? But does she know everything about his relationship with the Parrishes? Does she want to know? Story starts before 1957 and ends around 1993.
1. Chapter 1

A Della Street / Perry Mason romance

**OUR KIND OF LIFE**

**Disclaimer:** Characters are still not mine. I just love to tackle them when they tickle me.

**Setting:** Good question. This story starts before 1957 and ends around 1993. Los Angeles may be a safe setting to mention. ;)

**Pairing:** Della & Perry. **Rating: **T. **Spoilers** for The Heartbroken Bride.

**Summary:** Perry is invited to his niece's wedding. Who else would he bring but Della? But does she know everything about his relationship with the Parrishes? Does she want to know?

**Author's note:** This story is not yet finished. Although actually, finished it is, but the middle part is still lacking some details. LoL.

The story was triggered by a picture I saw from _The Case of the Heartbroken Bride_. Perry has his left arm wrapped around Della. They are both dressed up. Him with a red rose pinned to his suit and Della in a beautiful white dress. They smile. That picture made me so happy. And so does the TV movie episode now that I figured it all out in my mind. ;) The Parrishes and all. You'll see. I expect to have no more than ten chapters in the end. :)

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Miss Street?" Perry Mason's voice welcomed her in the reception area of his offices. He sounded gentle and crisp, showing a distinct sign of skepticism at the sight of her luggage.

"That's me," she said and got up, reaching down to her suitcases and her purse.

"Let me help you with these," the attorney offered and gestured his receptionist to store the luggage away behind her desk.

Della tried to protest, but he insisted with a smile. Gertie's set of eyes scanned her when she finally left the room, following him through the adjoined room into his office, boxes piled up everywhere.

"Please excuse the mess," the tall man said. "I just moved offices." His hair was dark and well-groomed. His overall appearance slick somehow. A smile here and there, but never too much. His eyes intense, his gestures smooth as he asked her to sit down.

"Thank you," Della answered, sat and nodded her head. "Is that why you are looking for an additional secretary?"

"Additional?" Perry Mason looked at her. "You mean Gertie?" He leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Oh no, she's my receptionist. I wouldn't know what to do without her taking my calls."

"She isn't your office help then," Della replied with a polite smile and moved her eyes away from his onto the right side of his desk. "Her notepad?"

Perry nodded approvingly. "You are very perceptive."

"A secretary should always have an eye for the essential," Della Street returned gracefully and held his gaze.

"Would you mind working with another secretary?" The attorney studied her and waited for her to look away. He knew that most women did at some point, blushed or shied. Not so the woman in front of him, her hair curly and richly brown, complementing her eyes.

"Indeed I would," she replied clearly, her voice gentle and warm.

"And why is that?" Perry Mason was surprised yet pleased. By her immediacy. Her honesty.

"Too many cooks spoil the broth," Della answered with a healthy sense of assertiveness.

"Is that so?" The lawyer in Perry was critical, the man tickled.

"Look, Mr. Mason," Della didn't want to waste her time convincing him and shifted in her chair. "You either need a firm hand to run your office. Someone who files away these boxes. Knows how to find what you need. Who is eager to learn what it is you do. What works for you. Then I suggest you look at my resume. Or you are looking for an addition to your secretarial pool. Someone who answers the phone, sits and waits. That I can do but I rather wouldn't."

Her eyes still held his gaze, her smile was warm but her voice was firm.

"So you rather work for a living," Perry Mason answered her without a smile.

"That's right. I am a working girl, Mr. Mason. I don't like sitting in offices waiting for my future husband." Della Street was blunt with him and cursed herself for it. His eyes strangely tickled her to say what she was so tired of hearing at her fifth interview that day.

"You don't believe in marriage?" Perry used his courtroom voice to further interrogate her now. He often did to scare unlikely candidates away. With her, he used it as a test to see how far he could play his game.

"Did I say that?" Della Street asked with a flirty smile.

"You see, I often work long hours," Perry Mason continued questioning her. "I expect my confidential secretary to be around at odd hours, too."

"I'm used to overtime," Della answered him with a hint of implicitness.

"I work on weekends. Sometimes at night," the lawyer added.

"You should get a couch," Della simply answered as she moved her eyes beyond the boxes that hid most of the room.

Perry chuckled. Her idea amused him. "You may be right." Then he looked at the resume she had put on his desk, only to close it after he had scanned her full name. "When can you start?"

Della wrinkled her forehead. "Don't you want to check my references?"

Perry Mason shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I have a feeling you'll do just fine." Then he smiled at her, for the first time with his eyes.

Della answered with a smile of her own and shied away at the intensity of his blue on her pair of brown.

_So she isn't as hard-boiled as she seems_, Perry noted to himself. Only to clear his throat and address her in his professional tone. "I need someone to bring order into chaos. Someone who will ask if my notes are illegible. Or illogical. I need someone to speak up if necessary. Who also knows when to be quiet. And I need someone who can shoot down my adversaries with a smile." The attorney got up and offered Della his hand. "Please come back here tomorrow, Miss Street. I'll prep you about everything then."

Della got up and didn't care to hide her joy. "Tomorrow then."

"Do you already have a place to stay?" He asked, suddenly remembering her suitcases behind Gertie's desk.

"Oh yes, I do. Thank you," Della answered. She was pleased by his care. "I don't like to go places unprepared."

Perry nodded. That alone was proof that he had picked the right girl. How old was she, he wondered. Her attire suggested twenty-eight or maybe twenty-nine. Her face, her looks a chaste twenty-five.

"I see you tomorrow then at nine," He answered her as he grabbed her arm to show her out. "I'll ask Gertie to call you a cab."

"Mr. Mason?" Della asked calmly and turned around before he opened the door.

"Yes, Miss Street?"

"If you don't mind, I would like to file away these boxes first thing tomorrow morning." She smiled warmly at him and pointed her head in the direction of the pile of unsorted office material and files.

"Do as you please, as long as you have your pencil ready for me if I need it," Perry answered her with a smirk. "This will be your office by the way," he said as he opened the door to the adjoined room to show her out. "Oh, and, don't you want to discuss your salary?"

"The monthly estimate you mentioned in your ad suits me just fine," Della answered matter-of-factly.

"That was a weekly average," Perry Mason added with a serious smile.

"That will do also," Della Street answered plainly and noticed his courteous behavior with a gentle smile.

"Glad you approve," he smirked at her as he was about to open the door to the reception area.

"Actually," Della bit her lips but dared to ask.

"Yes?" Perry Mason replied with a chuckle that died as she turned around and stood only inches away from him. Her face was pretty his eyes remarked. Beautiful even. Sophisticated yet innocent. And she was tall, heels aside. Too tall for him to avoid noticing her.

"It's only two o'clock and my room won't be ready before six," Della started plumply, covering her hesitation with a sparkle in her eyes. "If you don''t mind, I'd like to start sifting through your boxes right away."

Perry looked at her, her demeanor, her posture. Her dress. She came from a good family, that much he could tell. Was independent yet strangely traditional. A challenging mix.

"All right," he answered and held out his hand to show her back to his office. "Go right ahead." And he looked after her as she duck under his arm to dive right into work.

"Gertie," Perry Mason said flatly as he opened the door to see his receptionist on the other side of his secretary's office. "There's no need for you to come in for dictation today. I just found myself a Della Street."

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><p><em>tbc<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

"Well, good morning, honey," a male voice sounded through the half open door of her freshly organized office. He was tall and handsome. The type who knew he was. His hair already turning grey although he was still young. His face tired, probably from a date he had just sent home. He smelled like aftershave and cheap perfume. His tie was loose, his grin smug.

"Is Perry in?" His eyes scanned her up and down, hoping for a sign of flirtation, a smile. But Della Street merely looked up from her desk and blinked her eyes.

"Who wants to know?" Her voice was warm and crisp.

"Paul Drake," the man approached her and held out his hand to introduce himself. "Private detective."

"I see," Della said and forced herself to smile. "Mr. Mason asks you to wait in his office." She scrunched a handwritten note in her hand, got up and walked around her desk to open the door.

Paul studied her form passing him, wickedly wrapped in professional attire. Her dress boring in a way, yet classy. Nothing his lady friends would wear. But all the more revealing without giving anything away but her curves. Lusciously swaying her hips as she walked, without an effort. Her heels embellished her feet, her legs. She was tall. He liked that.

"You must be the new secretary," Paul followed her into Perry's office and leaned against the desk.

Della nodded gracefully.

"Did you take care of this?" He asked while his eyes moved around the room only to rest on her again. "Looks different." He smirked. "Tidy."

Della Street smiled, warmer now. There was something about that man that, after a while, didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

"I'm glad you've noticed," she quipped and remembered the long hours it had taken her to store and file everything away.

"I must say I was getting used to the boxes," Paul winked at her and slouched in the cushioned chair next to Perry Mason's desk. "But this will do."

Della shot him a look. A remark unspoken, something Paul couldn't quite place. He wasn't used to women responding to him without chuckling hysterically or rolling their eyes.

"Why don't you get comfortable?" Della pursed her lips to cover a smile as Paul sat up to defy her hint.

"It's been a long night," he answered her with a somewhat apologetic gesture.

"I'm sure it was," Della said without using a tone of voice. She was merely stating a fact but Paul wondered what she really meant.

"I've been working on a case," Paul strangely felt obliged to defend himself.

"Do you care for a cup of coffee?" Della nodded and hid her own curiosity about the case he had mentioned. A case Della had seen Mr. Mason working on.

"Please," the detective exchanged a look with her and found a spark of adventure in her eyes. "What's your name by the way?" He asked as she left the room to get his coffee.

"I thought you had already decided on that," Della answered playfully as she returned with the coffee pot and knelt down to get him a cup from the sideboard.

Paul shook his head. Her attitude amused him. She wasn't afraid to talk back. He had a feeling about Perry's reasons to hire her.

"So, _honey_," he searched for her gaze to meet his. "What's your policy on dating?"

"After office hours. Strictly private. None of your business," Della replied sweetly as she poured him his coffee and handed him the steaming cup.

"No hanky-panky at the office?" Paul wiggled his eyebrows to challenge her. Something about her attitude told him she wouldn't get cross with him.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Della gave back and walked passed him towards her office.

Paul shot her a smile and nodded. "Of course. Still trying to impress the boss."

Della shook her head and sighed with a chuckle. Paul Drake sure was an original. But one she felt she could live with if necessary.

A couple of minutes later, Perry Mason entered her office passing through the reception area. He looked sleep-deprived and grumpy. But his face lit as he found her smiling at him.

"Good morning, counselor," Della greeted him with a warm, soft voice.

"Good morning, Miss Street," Perry replied shortly while he handed her his coat. "Did you find everything?"

"Typed up and ready on your desk," Della replied with a nod. "Oh, and Paul Drake is waiting in your office ."

"Do we have coffee?" Perry simply asked before he opened the door to his office.

"Freshly brewed," Della met his short-spoken attitude.

"Then please join us to take notes," the attorney gave his secretary a small smile as he watched her getting up.

"Of course."

When he opened the door, Perry found his detective friend half asleep in his cushioned chair.

"Comfortable, Paul?" His gruff voice roused him. Always a hint of mockery in his tone.

"Whoever made you buy this chair is a genius," Paul said and muffled a yawn.

"Did you find anything?" Perry jumped right into business while he settled behind his desk and watched Della pouring him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," he uttered quietly. "By the way," he interrupted the private eye before he could speak. "Paul, this is Della Street. My new secretary."

"We have met," Paul nodded and smiled at her with a suggestive gaze.

"She's the genius you mentioned," Perry Mason noticed his friend's playful mood and pointed to the other side of the room, "who also talked me into getting a couch."  
>"Swell," Paul exclaimed and observed how Della Street was sitting down next to her employer. Her dress comfortable and not too tight around her waist. Her pencil ready to takes notes of his findings. Her notepad used but neat. Her face bent down but her ears alert.<p>

"Now," Perry Mason returned to business and ignored Paul Drake's fascination with his confidential secretary. "What did you find?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

For weeks, the office was dark when he arrived, early in the mornings. Too early, Della Street would say in that tone of voice she had started using with him right from the start. Warm and teasing, almost motherly. Although caring my be a better word for it Perry had to admit because his secretary was triggering a lot of images in his head, but mother was not one of them.

Actually, most of Della Street was still a riddle to him, a brainteaser, after all those months of working side by side. There were days when she was flirty with him, and others when he felt she kept her distance. For the sake of it, because his mood was grumpy or a case was testing their nerves. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that his moods had changed since she had stirred up his office life. Her magic had done wonders to him. That's what he called it, what she had done to organize his files, his desk. It never took her more than a turn and a smile to find what he was looking for. Not that her filing system would be a mystery he couldn't solve, but he preferred her to do those little things for it was those kinds of details that, for both of them, mattered most.

It took him two months to call her by her first name only. In the privacy of his office, after working long hours, late-night coffee and sharing takeout meals. It took her longer to call him Perry though. She was formal by nature, to the point that made him wonder what it would take to change her mind. Not that he minded how she addressed him as counselor or chief. The way she did it always sounded alluring, as if there was more to it than just respect. But late one night then, about a year after Paul had started teasing her with pet names and flattery, her tongue finally slipped.

"I just don't get it, Perry," she started uttering a question that had stuck with her since court that day. Her eyes fixed on her notes, she didn't even look at him, her eyebrows tucked to a frown. "Why would Lawson perjure himself for his business rival?"

Perry simply smiled and waited till she finally raised her gaze. "I've been asking myself the same thing, Della," he finally offered and welcomed her chaste sing of informality as a matter of course.

Paul was next, although it took her longer to accept his offer to "get friendly on a first name basis" as he had put it. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea, her usual answer. But actually she got the kick out of teasing Paul in her own way. Until he wouldn't stop calling her beautiful. So she finally gave in, actually to make him start calling her by her given name. Perry was tickled watching them and never interfered. He was convinced his secretary secretly appreciated Paul's attention. After all, Della seemed to like the private eye. Had said so in one of their silent conversations when they exchanged a look that conveyed she knew what was on his mind.

Perry got to exchange a lot of looks with Della, the more he understood to read what she had to say. Her comments always subtle, her perception impeccable. He had to admit that in less than two years she had become an asset he couldn't afford to lose.

"I need someone to pose as my wife," he stated one day after Paul had left to investigate another suspect. "Are you interested?"

"I'm not that kind of a girl," Della answered him smoothly. Her eyes fluttered slightly. She was uncomfortable in her seat. Almost shy.

"This is a business proposal," Perry Mason answered rapidly. He was surprised about her hesitation. After all, she had often expressed a wish to support Paul's and his investigations. "I would never take advantage of you, Della," his tone had dropped from professional to private without him noticing. Her face told him everything. She trusted him.

It was that investigation though, that case, that made him kiss her after all. On the side of a road when she rested her head on his shoulder to take a nap. Her face looked so peaceful, her lips so full. Paul was right, Della sure was beautiful.

That kiss didn't change anything and yet it did. He had initiated it, hadn't been able to resist. But then she was the one who didn't let him pull away.

For months, Della seemed to hold him at bay. Not more than a smile at the office, a brush of her hand against his. She wouldn't go beyond a tender kiss, ardent at times. She wasn't the flaky type, not the kind of girl who would be swept away all too easily.

He knew he loved her when he popped the question he never thought he'd ever ask. Almost five years after Della had entered his life. Her rejection didn't hurt him, she was so gentle. And then she did, simply by kissing him. He always loved to taste her. Her lips so soft and promising. But it always hurt when she pulled away. She left him wanting her. He had no idea just how much it cost her to say no to him.

The day after his proposal was awkward until he saw she was coping all right. Her mind buried in piles of work, her voice professional, her smile alluring - that's why he loved her. She was so different from him and yet so very much alike.

He had to hand it to her. She knew how to keep her distance. Their reputation never tainted. Her humble no's. That gentle way of drawing a line. After half a decade, she seemed aware of his routine. His bygone attraction to a woman lawyer, Laura by name. His work obsession. His qualms about marriage in their modern times. Della understood his sentimental side. Those moments of weakness when he felt like changing his life. Some cases made him long for more of her. A home. Someone to hold before he crept to bed late at nights. When he had difficulties coping with the circumstances of a murdered life. But Della Street would not indulge him. His fantasy of her as a perfect wife. Barefoot and pregnant. A house with a fence. She did not buy into his moments of melancholy, his childlike image of a simple life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

"Now you are up early," her voice sounded through the open door as she peeked into his office. Always deeper in the mornings, almost bordering the sultry. Perry wondered if she could tell what that did to him as he raised his eyes to look at her.

"Good morning to you, too." He smiled, all counselor talking to his secretary.

"Coffee will be ready in a minute." Della returned, her eyes dark somehow. And glistening.

Perry glared at her, caressed her in her blouse. That belt tugged around her curves. The slimness of her waist in that circle dress. It was too early to fight his instincts, so he bluntly moved his eyes over her.

"Did you have a rough night?" Della tried to ignore his flattery with a graceful smile. Her cheeks blushed, she knelt next to him to get the coffee set out of the sideboard.

"I couldn't sleep," Perry answered her, refraining from touching her back. It was one of those days when a touch of her could drive him mad.

"This case is haunting you," Della Street said and pointed at the file on his desk. She wasn't pleased. She didn't like to see him on edge.

"It's just another case," Perry said and watched her getting up.

"Just another case that makes you come in to work at 4am," his secretary looked at him. She was concerned. Something in his eyes told her he's had enough.

"If this case is my excuse," Perry reached for the file and closed it," what's yours?"

"The same," Della answered and rushed out of the room to return moments later with two cups of takeout coffee and a bag of breakfast. "I couldn't sleep."

Perry watched how Della draped two muffins and two sandwiches on their plates. Then she poured the coffee from the plastic mugs into their cups and set the table.

"I had a hunch you'd be brooding in your office," she said with a shrug. "It seems I was right."

Perry nodded before he got up to join her at the table by the window. "I can't get my mind around this case." He didn't mind hiding his frustration from her. She could tell anyway. "It doesn't make sense."

"Murder never makes sense, isn't that what you said to Mrs Kirby?" Della took a piece of her muffin and shoved it gracefully into her mouth. "Don't tell me you only tried to soothe her." She smiled warmly at him, implying that he wasn't the type to soothe anyone.

"I leave the soothing to you," Perry Mason returned her smile and reached out his hand to rest on hers. He moved his thumb tenderly over her skin and glared at her. Della knew he was busy sorting his thoughts, looking for comfort. But then there was more.

"You see, what I don't understand is how the victim's sister, Mildred Kirby, fits into all of this." Della resumed eating her muffin and responded softly to his caress. She knew he

wanted to bounce off ideas. This case had eaten away a lot of his strength. Betrayal and deception easily got to him as of late. Which also meant that she was entering dangerous territory by affirming his touch. Cases like these always made him lean on her.

"Mildred Kirby gives me a headache," Perry answered grumpily, closing his hand around hers, entwining his fingers with hers. "I know she killed Kenneth but I cannot prove it."

Della remembered Mildred Kirby's awkward testimony and Perry's stern face when the hearing had been adjourned for the day. "I thought it was odd how she spoke about her brother," she felt his eyes zooming in on her, studying her face. "I was close to mine but I would never have..."

"Della," Perry exclaimed and leaned in to place a hasty kiss onto her mouth.

Della closed her eyes as his lips touched hers and, although they were at the office, she didn't pull away. "You really are my lucky charm."

"What did I say?" Della asked, and slowly opened her eyes again to find him beaming at her.

"I'll explain later," Perry answered her an jumped up to return to his desk. "Get Paul on the line for me, will you?" His hand brushed over her shoulder, caressing it. For a moment she hoped he would kiss her again.

With the case dismissed and Mildred Kirby convicted hours later, Della yawned as Perry drove his car back to her apartment to drop her off. She sat sandwiched between Perry and Paul in the front of the car and rested her head on his shoulder when they were stuck in traffic on the freeway. Paul Drake smirked and shook his head.

"I think she's asleep," the detective whispered, pulling out a package of Chesterfields.

"She got up early," Perry answered quietly and handed Paul a lighter for his cigarette. "She's exhausted."

"4am, Perry," Paul shot him an inquisitive look. "Really?"

"Helped us solve the case," Perry shrugged without moving his shoulders. He didn't want to wake Della from her slumber.

"It's a bad habit, and you know it." Paul looked at his attorney friend and caught him marveling at Della's face. "That, too."

"It's been five years today," Perry ignored the private eye's insinuation and stopped himself from caressing her face.

"Did you make plans?" Paul Drake understood what it meant to hear Perry Mason mention that anniversary to him.

"That's why I'm driving her home," the lawyer answered and checked the road to see how the traffic was coming along. "I want to take her out to dinner."

"You always take her out to dinner," Paul chuckled and hushed his voice as Della moved in her sleep, cuddling up closer to Perry. "Am I invited?"

"Not this time, Paul," Perry said matter-of-factly and moved the car closer to the next exit. "I'll by you dinner another time."

When Perry reached Della's apartment building, he stopped the car and gently tried to wake her up. "Della," he finally stopped resisting to touch her face and moved the back of his fingers over her cheeks in a tender caress. "Wake up, sleepy."

Della moaned and mumbled unintelligibly. She seemed to wish to sleep on. So Perry gestured Paul to assist him, stepped out of his car and gathered his secretary in his arms.

"I'll get her upstairs," Perry Mason said and grabbed Della's purse which Paul handed out to him. "I won't be long."

"Take your time," Paul said with an undertone and moved into the driver's seat to park the car in an empty parking lot.

Perry entered the building and nodded to the doorman who held the door for him. "Mr. Mason," the man greeted him and smiled politely at the sight of Ms Street in his arms. "Another long night?" The old man asked sympathetically.

Perry nodded and returned the doorman's smile. "Yes." Then he walked towards the elevator and nodded approvingly as the operator knew which floor to go.

"Could you hold it," Perry asked as he stepped out and walked up to Della's apartment. "I won't be long."

"Of course, sir" the operator replied, perfectly aware of who she was talking to.

When Perry reached Della's door, he opened her purse and grabbed her keys. He had a pair of his own but didn't want to reach into his pocket to give a wrong impression. After all, they were only his in an emergency.

When he turned the keys in the lock and opened the door, he moved swiftly to turn on the lights and carried her inside. He let the door ajar and walked straight into Della's bedroom to lay her down. He was gentle with her and fought his want to undress her. He only removed her pumps and coat, then reached for the covers to make her comfortable. He gently leaned down and placed a soft kiss onto her lips before grabbed the notepad on her nightstand. Its presence alone made him shake his head. Always the secretary awaiting his call. A pencil right next to it. It was perfect for him to leave his message.

When Perry Mason reached his office a short time later, he put the Kirby file on his desk, knowing that Della would put it away the following day. The case of the jealous sister, Perry thought to himself. Funny how Della's instincts had once again helped him solve a case.

At 8pm, Perry looked up from his pile of work his secretary had prepared for him when he hadn't noticed. Her diligence never ceased to amaze him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Della's number without having to check his notebook.

"Well, hello sleepy," he greeted her and smirked at the sleepiness still evident in her voice. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did," Della answered in her warmest voice, transmitting a mix of protest and gratitude. "But what about you?"

"It's you who deserved some rest after solving the case," Perry tickled her.

"You shouldn't be working late again, you know," Della simply replied, knowing that it was useless to argue with him about his hours.

"I don't intend to," Perry gave back and cleared his throat. "Actually, I reserved a table at La Maison in an hour. I had hoped you would come along."

Della smiled at his maneuver. So innocent his question and yet so sly. "They only take reservations four months in advance," she said flirtily.

"I know," Perry Mason replied. "Good thing I knew I wanted to take you there tonight."

Della smiled, about him, to herself. She didn't really know. "All right," she replied and didn't care to hide her liking his idea. "I'll be there."

Perry nodded. He was pleased with himself. "I'll pick you up," he offered good-humoredly.

"You already put me to bed," Della answered wickedly. "I'm not sure I want to get a reputation for taking advantage of my boss."

Perry laughed but understood her hint. Paul was right, he better not turn his feelings for her into a bad habit.

When Perry Mason reached La Maison at 9pm sharp, he scanned the bar for her in one of her evening gowns. He knew she had wanted to come to this place for quite some time. She loved good food. She loved to dance. This seemed to be the place. And the time.

When his eyes moved over a group of ladies sitting at the bar, it didn't take him long to make out that she wasn't there. Her hair, her figure, her style. None of the city beauties resembled her.

When he turned around to confirm his reservation, his eyes caught a glimpse of her curly hair illuminated by the light in the entrance hall. Her elegant dress, silky with a touch of lace embellishing her collar bone. Revealing a little cleavage, but not too much. The embroidery on her hemline just effective enough to make him rest his eyes on her legs. Her matching heels. The way she walked and took off her stole. Always so graceful. Her face lightening up at the sight of him.

"Perry," Della smiled warmly. Her circle dress swinging with every step. "Sorry for running late."

Perry Mason shook his head. "You are just on time," he answered and moved his arm around her shoulders. "A table for two," he addressed the young man behind his reservation book. "For Mason."

The young man nodded and beckoned to a waiter to pick them up. "Your table is already waiting for you," he addressed Perry and then nodded to Della.

When they reached the table, Della smiled at the bottle of champagne that was resting comfortably in a cooler. Then she sat down, appreciating Perry's courteous gesture of holding the chair for her.

"Now what is this?" She eyed him with a smile hidden by a gentle pout as he joined her at the table.

"What do you mean?" Perry replied innocently. He enjoyed seeing her breathing in the scene.

"What's the occasion?" Della Street looked at her employer, displaying that he was much more to her than that.

"Don't you know?" Perry leaned in to her and back again when the waiter approached them with the menus and poured them each a glass of bubbly.

"Could it be that you remembered?" Della put down her menu to meet his gaze.

"Five years to the day," Perry answered tenderly. "You got Paul a couch, how could I forget?"

Dinner was quiet in that way they had with each other. Never uncomfortable, always familiar. The Kirby case had left them longing for a little bit of downtime, and peace of mind.

Before dessert, Perry observed how Della was swaying her body to the rhythm of the music played by the band. Some fast songs before the romantic matched his mood. He held out his hand. "Do you care to dance?"

Della's face moved from surprised to touched and thrilled – a combination Perry Mason liked so much. Her genuine reaction, her face so easy for him to read when she let him. Her hand in his as she got up. He just loved to see her happy around him.

On the dance floor, he held her close. Too close for an attorney and his secretary. His arm was tucked around her back. How he longed to move it south, around her waist, to make her disappear in his embrace. He knew he couldn't. They were in public. She wouldn't let him go too far. So they danced until she whispered something in his ear. No one remotely close enough to overhear her. "Take me home tonight."

Perry gasped and found her face innocent. Nothing about her to suggest she had just said what he longed to hear. She simply smiled. Five years had rushed by so very fast, he thought to himself and felt as if time was running through his fingers.

"I can't believe it's been five years since you walked into my office and turned it upside down," he whispered back. Della squeezed his hand and flickered her eyes. Her sign of fighting with emotions.

"You left quite an impression on me that day," Della answered quietly, never giving away the secret that she had fallen in love with him all too easily.

"Let's go home," Perry said, fully aware of the implications of his words.

"My counselor," Della covered her approval with a chaste smirk. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

When they reached his apartment an hour later, Perry found himself nervous to unlock the door. Della leaned against him ever so lightly, never giving into rumors nosy neighbors may wish to start.

Perry gently nudged her inside his home and closed the door. He didn't switch on the lights but used his lighter to light some candles instead.

Della took off her stole and stood. Perry Mason, the romantic type. She smiled, breathed in the moment, felt tipsy after their bottle of champagne. The music they had danced to. His arms so familiar. His scent. She swayed to the memories of a perfect night and closed her eyes as Perry pulled her into a tight embrace. His hands fondled her waist now, her hips. Della hummed a melody she seemed to remember. Her lips nuzzled his neck. Then met his for a kiss. Tentative at first, then growing passionate. Della moaned, felt Perry responding to her. His arms drew her closer. His hands caressed her. Her eyes fluttered open and then shut. Another kiss, deeper now. Demanding. She gave in to it and then broke free. Gently, but clearly. Her eyes open, searching for his in the dimlit room.

"I should be going," Della whispered, regret visible in her sparkly brown.

Perry held her gaze and sought for an answer to a question he had already popped in their past.

"Please," Della answered quietly before he could start to plea with her. "Don't."

Perry saw her eyes flicker again, a distinct sign that she was covering her feelings from him.

"Good night, chief," she said under her breath, her voice unsteady and emotional. It was safer not to call him by his first name.

Perry's body ached for her as soon as she broke their embrace and walked towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Della said as she wrapped her stole around her shoulders and avoided his gaze with a shaking smile.

"Please don't go," Perry said softly, trying to gain control of the situation. His blue eyes pierced her in the semidarkness. He needed to know what was going on. So he reached for her arm and stopped her with his hand, then touched her chin and gently lifted it. He saw her eyes restless although her composure was impeccable as usual.

Della tried to waver past him to avoid his eyes, his touch. It was no use. Perry softly removed the stole from her shoulders and caressed her neck. Then his hand cupped her face, his thumb moved over her cheek to fondle it. Della tried to resist the tingling feeling he evoked in her.

They had been close before. One of those nights when he had asked her to become his wife. But this was different, she saw the words building up before he even started forming them.

"I want you to stay." His voice was low and sensitive, bordering the plea she longed to hear yet feared so much.

Della moved in closer to him and loosened his tie. His hands caressed her waist, her hips. Then she kissed him, different now, pushing her doubts away.

"I'm quite a traditional girl, you know." Her voice was controlled but soft. She didn't want to show him her rage of emotions, her nervousness.

"I'll ask you again if you let me," Perry answered lovingly and tried to find the zipper of her dress on her back. He saw her twinge of conscience about values she so truly believed him, but was now willing to bend.

"I would marry you if you were any other person," Della answered him briskly, as if afraid to change her mind again. "But it's not for you."

"So you say," he returned and unwrapped her from her dress. "I'll keep asking you anyway."

Then he took her hand and kissed it, gently tugging her along into his bedroom. He did not switch on the lights although he longed to see all of her. Underneath her lingerie and nylons. But then he knew she would let him eventually.

When they reached the bed, Perry was swift about stepping out of his clothes. He didn't want to wait too long. When he lay down, he pulled her with him, his mouth seeking hers as his hands found her skin. Della moaned, felt him impatient but restraining himself. As soon as he had completely stripped her off her clothes she answered his urge with her own. Whispered his name in a sensual rhythm, following his trail of kisses up from her belly to her neck. She moved her hands over his shoulders, his back. Loved the smell of his skin. His chest hair rough against the softness of her curves. Now it was her who was impatient, who whispered how much she wanted him.

When she rested in his arms, his bare skin warm, his body spent like hers, Della smiled. He looked peaceful in his sleep. Contented. Rested. Her fingers caressed him and for a minute she was unsure if he may want her to leave. But as soon as she moved, his arm tugged her back to him, gently but decisively.

"You are here to stay, darling," Perry mumbled and pulled the blanket tighter around them both.

Della nestled her head in his embrace and placed a loving kiss onto his lips.

"Now get some sleep," Perry answered her kiss with one of his own. Then smirked. "I wouldn't want my secretary to scold you for making me come in late."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

It took some getting used to for Della, to wake up in his arms. The feeling of his lips grazing her skin before she was alert enough to open her eyes. His voice low when it reached her ear, his mouth placing tender kisses on her neck. He loved when she lay naked in his arms, so he told her in a whisper, her back turned to him, easing into his embrace. Della gasped. The ticklish feeling of his fingertips against the small of her back, up her spine and over her waist. His palm resting on her belly to feel it and linger on the softness of his favorite curve, only to move up and appreciate her bosom. His want for her was insatiable.

It used to scare her, that need she knew men could feel for a woman they said they loved. Little had she known about her own desire. That ache when his skin left hers, when his lips broke free to catch some air. Della didn't easily confuse passion with love. She had loved before, at least had thought so at the time. But this was different. She had never craved for a man, never bent her rules so easily without feeling guilty or ashamed. Never thought she would. But Perry loved her, she knew he did the first morning after they had spent the night together. A fresh pile of clothes had waited for her in his bathroom. He had rushed over to her place to gather her an outfit, had set the scene so it looked professional if someone had walked in on them. He had made breakfast after his return while she had been getting ready, unaware of his scheming, his careful preparations to avoid raising suspicion. He had looked at her with those intense eyes of his, both strangely lost with words. He had seen her uneasiness, her doubts about giving herself to him and done away with them with a mere _good morning_ and a lingering kiss.

At the office then, they had fallen back into their habit. Perry Mason, attorney-at-law, and Della Street, his confidential secretary. It was as if those office doors separated them from what had happened, what they knew was not a slip-up. What could've been awkward if they had discussed it. What they both realized would change their routine if they allowed their feelings to come in to work.

It took them a month to figure it all out. A full year to find a balance between their two apartments, his need for her and her reluctance to marry him. She loved to tease him every now and then, after hours, when the office was closed and no one threatened to observe them. She loved to nuzzle him, the feeling of his arms slowly drawing her closer to inhale her scent, his entire body worn out and tired after a long day. How she could hide away in his embrace and be the one to give him energy to face an unpleasant case.

She became entangled in his life. Kept him company, had so before but was crucial now as more than his pastime or a crush. When he was lonely, he called her, looked for an excuse to lure her out of bed. To make her rush to be with him. It drove him mad to wait for her, how she tested his patience without even provoking it. The office was like coffee without sugar when she wasn't around, he didn't like the taste of it. At the same time however, he loved that she met his need for solitude in-between organizing his life and making love to him. How she seemed to sense when she wasn't welcome, when he needed a weekend away to calm his mind. It puzzled him how she could resist him even when he saw passion dancing in her eyes, how she managed to divide Della and her sensuality from the always professional Miss Street.

One night, four years after finding his way into her life, Perry watched Della working neatly at her desk. He had asked her to keep the connecting door open in case he needed her immediate assistance with their current case. She had known that wasn't the reason, had challenged him with that look of hers she always gave him when he was trying to push the boundaries. She knew he was watching her typing up his dictation, notes he so desperately needed in court the next day. She tried not to notice how his eyes studied her from behind his files, how his thoughts drifted away from the difficulties he had with that particular case.

"Della?" He shouted finally, his voice just loud enough to reach her.

Della Street smiled to herself and got up, notebook ready and pencil to take more notes or to go over his previous ones.

"Please close the door," Perry said as he watched her steps with precision, the way she turned in her heels, always so elegant in a pencil skirt.

"Is something wrong?" The secretary in her asked while the woman was worried.

"Just sit with me for a moment," Perry answered thoughtfully and moved around his desk. "Please."

Della closed the door behind her and sat on the couch. Perry didn't. Not right away. He stood and looked at her, his eyes restless, his demeanor calm.

"What's going on?" Della chuckled self-consciously, half expecting him to solve the case for her now. His eyes were intense on her like in the courtroom when he studied a likely suspect on the witness stand. "Perry, do you know who did it?"

Perry glared at her, surprised for a moment. Then he sat and locked his eyes with hers. "This isn't about the Anderson case," the attorney started. "This is about you."

Della Street looked at him, unsure about what to say. "Me?" She wrinkled her forehead.

"Della," Perry Mason started by putting his hand on hers. "I can't get you out of my head."

She stared at him, his words slowly sinking in. His eyes gently resting on hers.

"Oh," Della cleared her throat and covered a blush.

"Is that all you have to say?" Perry tried to read her reaction.

"What do you want me to say, counselor?" Della shied away from him as if to give him space. One of those things she did, but this time Perry didn't let her.

"Della, I know we've been over this. You don't think that marriage is for us. I've accepted that." His eyes were pinned on hers to make her understand. "But here's what's happening," he continued and swallowed his scruples. "I...cannot..." He didn't find the courage to just be so blunt about it, after all, she had made it clear she didn't want to marry him.

"You want me to leave," Della said seriously and lowered her gaze. She seemed to have worried he would ask her eventually, to pack her things and get out. If he found her too distracting to keep around the office. Not that her thoughts about him hadn't slowed her down on occasion.

"No," Perry interrupted her and moved closer to her. "Why would I want that?" He felt like a fool. "It's just that last night..."

Della raised her head again, relaxed, and tried to cover a knowing smile. "You didn't want me to go."

"Yes," Perry nodded relieved.

"I didn't want to either," Della admitted and welcomed his tender embrace. "But officially, I'm still a respectable woman, you know. And how often does a secretary work nights at her boss' apartment?"

Perry responded by burying his hand in her curls. "I know. We have a reputation to uphold."

"Exactly," Della replied and tilted her head. She loved when he was playing with her hair.

"But that's not working for me," he confessed, afraid to push her away by being honest. "I need you."

"It's this case," Della answered lovingly. "It's bothering you."

"It's more than that," Perry pulled her into a lingering kiss to make his point.

"It really isn't," Della answered his kiss with her own, gently nibbling at his lips. "You feel the world's gone bad and you need me to make you believe in it again."

"I love you, Della." Perry caressed her waist and looked at her.

"I know you do," she answered him and fondled his lips with her index finger. "But running away with me is not the solution you're looking for."

"It could be," Perry tried to sound hopeful but knew she was right. He was trying to avoid facing some of the emotional turmoil that case had stirred up in him. A man who married for money and then killed his wives. Laura as opposing counsel, supposedly fighting for the same result. It drove him mad that he couldn't prove the innocence of his client. That Della didn't feel threatened by Laura's advances towards him, or didn't show it. That she answered all of Laura's insinuations with a steadfast smile. Shrugged her off and then waited for him to call it a night to spend it with him, in one of their beds, bewitching and bare. Until last night.

"Right now it may feel that way," Della agreed and flung her arms gently around his neck. "But in a week from now you'll be happy not be tied down by a mortgage, a handful of children and a housewife who's bored out of her wits."

"I would spoil you," Perry offered desperately.

"I know you would," she kissed him softly and propped herself up to take demand of their unusual intermezzo at the office. "But the salvation you are looking for would only last so long."

"Maybe I'm ready to retire," the lawyer tried to reason with his secretary while he was openly enjoying her taking charge.

"Don't be silly, counselor," Della deepened their kiss only to break free from him seconds later, leaving him dangling with an appetite for more. "We're both too young to call it quits."

"You could be working while I sit at home looking after the kids," Perry challenged her with a fantasy he knew would amuse her.

"Now that's a picture I could get used to," Della beamed at him and wiggled herself up from his lap. "But be careful, chief, sometimes wishful thinking has a tendency to become quite real."

Perry marveled at the way she so gracefully readjusted her skirt. "You think?"

"After all those years of working by your side I know that for a fact," Della said a little too earnestly and walked away from him to lean against his desk.

"Anything you wish to share with me?" Perry looked up at her and remained seated. Something about her posture told him she had put some distance between them for a reason.

"Nothing you should be worried about right now," Della Street returned with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Before Perry could answer her, he saw Della moving her head towards the backdoor. "Did you hear that?" She whispered and met him halfway in the middle of his office, listening to the unfamiliar sound.

Perry Mason nodded. Someone was trying to unlock the door with a tool. Perry was quick when he leaned towards his desk to switch off his lamp and then grabbed Della by her arm. He pushed her towards the library and reconsidered. "Closet," he whispered and shoved her through the open door only to close it behind them. Then her pushed Della behind their coats and emergency wardrobe, his touch gentle but insistent.

Della looked at him, her eyes wide open. She pricked her ears at the sound of footsteps and the backdoor flinging open and then shut. Perry held her, suddenly worried.

"Who is it?" Della formed the words with her lips without making a sound.

Perry shook his head to emphasize he didn't know and didn't dare to risk a peek outside.

"The file is on the desk," a female voice said huskily, "neatly typed up."

"Let's get out of here and make a copy," a man answered while the woman seemed to rush towards the desk on high heels. "Would you hurry, for heaven's sake, we need to get this back before dawn," he barked at her.

"Would you stop waving your gun around like a toy," the woman's voice answered him annoyed. "Shooting me won't get this copied any faster."

"I don't quite get why we don't just take the file and get out for good," the man sounded edgy.

"Because dear Miss Street would notice the missing file first thing in the morning and run to her lawyer boss to alert him," the woman returned in a mildly distressed voice.

"She could've misplaced it," the man answered with a shrug.

"No," the woman answered coldly. "She wouldn't misplace a file even if her life depended on it."

Perry raised his eyebrow and couldn't help but smirk at the female intruder's remark. When he looked at Della to take in her reaction, her found her scared but trying not to show it. The fact that the man had a gun intimidated her.

Perry shielded her from the door as if his shoulders could keep her from hearing what was going on outside.

"What are you looking at now?" The man hissed at his companion, obviously impatient about getting lost.

"Her notepad," the woman hissed back. "How careless of her to leave it on his desk."

"Take it or leave it," the man urged her to go, obviously annoyed by her instincts to start searching the room for an unwelcome set of ears.

"All right," the woman finally replied, only inches away from the closet, her fingers already in place to open the door.

Inside, Della inhaled audibly and Perry drew her close to him, his left arm resting firmly on her belly while his right hand covered her mouth from behind to stop her from releasing a sound. He stood with his back to the door, Della's spine pressed against his chest. She nearly dissolved in him.

"Let's go," the woman agreed and moved her heels through the room and out the backdoor in only a couple of hasty steps.

When the door shut, Perry slowly released his left hand from Della's belly and opened the closet door wide enough to peek through it. When he was certain that the air was clear, he dropped his hand from Della's mouth but kept holding her close. When she turned to look at him, his eyes found hers and he exhaled.

"I think I'm going to have a baby," Della said quietly, looked at him, uneasiness reflected in her eyes, and pulled him into a lingering kiss.

"And you thought now is the time to tell me," Perry was stunned but couldn't help being tickled by her sense of timing as he pushed the door wide open for them to get out.

"Coming out of the closet anyway, aren't we?" Della replied and smiled, assuring him that she was not thrilled by the implications of the situation.

* * *

><p>"We had a break-in at the office tonight," Perry Mason said to Paul Drake sitting across from him in his office a short while later. "A man and a woman. They took the Anderson file."<p>

Paul looked up from his desk and moved his eyes from Perry to Della. "Did you get a good look at them?"

Perry shook his head. "We only heard them speak."

"Any hints I can use to track them down for you?" Paul asked, noticing how Perry seemed to hold on to Della protectively while she tried to keep an odd distance.

"The woman seemed to know Della," Perry's eyes were grave when they rested on Paul's. "I don't like how she spoke about her. I want you to keep her safe."

"Perry, you cannot protect me from every..." Della argued but was interrupted by Perry's unrelenting voice.

"Don't go back to her apartment. Get her up to Bear Valley if you must. Just get her out of here and don't let her talk you into coming back before this is settled," Perry patted his friend's shoulder. "Would you give us a minute, please?"

Paul nodded and saw frustration reflected in Della's eyes. "Of course."

As Paul left his office to contact his men about their new case, Perry gently squeezed Della's shoulders. "Della, this case is getting out of hand. I won't have you near it."

"That woman could simply have done her research on us," Della tried to argue her case. "It's not unusual for a legal secretary to be organized."

"You recognized her voice, didn't you?" Perry asked gently.

"I couldn't be sure," she answered evasively.

"Who are you thinking of?" Perry Mason switched into his courtroom tone, roughing the edges.

"If you didn't think it sounded familiar, why would I?" Della shook her head, resisting the effect his voice usually had on her.

"Who do you mean?" Perry looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Tiffany Baxter, Laura's assistant," Della answered quietly and lowered her head. She hated to bring up that name in front of him. She didn't like that they were working the same case, stuck their heads together to fight for a result that would serve both of their interests. She despised how Laura looked at Perry, always referring to a past that excluded her, Della Street. It cost her quite an effort to conceal her jealousy, to detach herself from the thought of losing Perry to that woman. To trust, not so much him but her, when Della wasn't sitting with them.

"Are you sure?" Perry asked faster than his mind usually allowed him to, realizing that she had insisted on not being sure at all.

"I don't want to start things," Della was careful about her choice of words. She didn't want to accuse a woman she had only met twice in her life, but what was even more important, Della didn't want Perry to get entangled in one of Laura's ploys. She didn't like how he was acting around her. How he had a blind eye for her traps. How he was loyal to her for their past.

"I'll tell Paul to check on Tiffany Baxter," Perry replied and elegantly ignored Della's uneasy sigh. "And now you better get going."

Della looked at him incredulously. "Is that all you have to say to me?" She asked but wasn't sure what exactly she had expected.

"I only argue one case at a time," Perry leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips. "I will look into this," he kissed her again and swiftly moved his hand over her belly, "in due time. I promise."

Della nodded. She was strangely relieved to not find him kneeling in front of her, trying to talk her into marriage. At the same time however she didn't know where this was going and she had a weird feeling that she may come to regret having rejected him.

* * *

><p>Paul's apartment was cosy and small. A lot less bachelor-shabby than she had expected. And after two days of hosting her, the place even had a structure and looked organized.<p>

"You know," Paul laughed as her exited the kitchen with a pot of coffee and watched her rearranging the few books on his shelves. "I should talk Perry into sending you over more often. This place has a whole new touch to it."

Della shot him a glance. "You are just lucky there's nothing else to do around here but clean." Her voice was smooth but tired.

"And there I thought you enjoyed my company, beautiful," Paul returned quickly, pretending to be hurt.

"I do on a voluntary basis," Della played along. "But I don't appreciate being stuffed away in another man's bedroom on demand of my boss."

Paul chuckled and rubbed his back. Sleeping on the couch sure had its advantages at times. Two nights in a row not so much.

"Perry offered his cabin to us, you know." Della said sympathetically and eyed him from across the room.

"I didn't expect Tragg to be so slow about busting Tiffany Baxter," Paul admitted. "Otherwise I wouldn't have minded a little trip up north with you myself."

Della smiled and finished his shelves with a clap of her hands. "All right, what's next," she exclaimed and smirked mischievously at Paul.

"I'm afraid there's nothing left for you to dust or clear or put away," Paul gestured for her to sit with him on the couch. "Now tell me what's going on in your pretty head. It's not that you wouldn't know how to relax," he poked her sweetly.

"I'm fine, Paul, really. It hasn't been the first time that I was locked up in a closet somewhere," Della answered evasively. "After all, I had a little brother."

Paul Drake chuckled at the pictures her remark triggered in his head. He knew that Della had babysat her brother and his friends in the past. That they had tied her to trees, filled her shoes with pudding and spied on her and her dates. He had always found her blushing at those stories, but genuinely enjoying them at the same time. Happy memories mixed up with sadness. Paul knew that Della had lost her brother before she had moved out West. His source had been her best friend who'd come out for a visit and he had promised not to give her secret away.

"Do you miss your family?" Paul asked carefully, strangely aware of her answer before she could voice it.

"Recently I do," Della said quietly and accepted his offer to sit with him.

"I figured," the private eye returned and offered a rare insight into the soft chasms of his character.

"How would you have figured?" Della chuckled, always expecting him to tease her.

"I don't like Laura either," Paul merely offered and put his arm around his friend's shoulder to squeeze her.

"Am I covering it that badly?" Della leaned in to Paul and rested her head on his shoulder. In Perry's absence it felt good to have a friend to watch over her.

"Not for someone who doesn't know you," Paul answered her. He had never held Della so closely before and found he didn't mind. After all, she was like his little sister.

"I know it in my gut that she's involved in this stunt," Della said calmly. "She tried to press me for information Perry wouldn't give her."

"When was that?" Paul tilted his head to look at her.

"A day before the break-in," Della replied. "Which is why I remembered Ms Baxter's voice. After her disappointment with me, Laura had sent her assistant over to gather some notes only to get annoyed with me over the _prim_ accuracy of our files," she continued by imitating Tiffany Baxter's voice. "Her words not mine."

Paul chuckled. It was a rare treat to observe Della Street bordering the catty. "And you didn't tell Perry because?" He had a hunch why she hadn't but wanted to hear it from her.

"There was no need. Perry had asked me not to give Laura the information she was seeking and I didn't," Della replied, deadpan. "I couldn't possibly tell him about every little unpleasantry I experience with that woman."

Paul shook his head. He was sure Della had overcome a lot of peeves in the past, and the few he had witnessed her handling she had managed with the most graceful of smiles. One of those she now used to cover the little extra that came with the story she had just told him. Almost as bad as Perry, Paul thought to himself, never delivering more information than necessary.

When the call came that Della's memory had served her well and Tiffany Baxter had indeed been the woman who was attached to the voice they had heard behind closed closet doors, Della Street was not as relieved as she should have been. Although she had every reason to be. After all, she found herself free to go. Back to the office and her apartment first, a bouquet of roses awaiting her by the door. A card hidden under it. _Take your time_. Then his smile when he welcomed her back, his mouth covering hers with hungry kisses. It felt good to be in his arms and yet that was exactly where all her trouble had begun.

"You are in excellent shape, Miss Street," the woman doctor finally reassured her a few days after pricking her for blood. "The tests came back negative."

Della nodded. "Nothing out of the ordinary?" She asked carefully.

"Nothing at all," Doctor Abbot shook her head.

Della gave her a polite smile and got up to shake her hand. She knew she should have been assuaged but wasn't.

"But I have a feelings that's not why you're here," the doctor accepted Della's hand and returned her smile. "All I can say is this: if you should consider getting married any time soon, I don't see a reason not to start a family at your age," she added understandingly, obviously mistaking Della's concern. "After all you're only thirty-four."

Della glared at her and gasped. "I'll take that into consideration. Thank you, doctor," she answered sweetly and then left the practice with a queasy feeling in her stomach.

"So how was lunch?" Perry asked Della a little later, curiosity evident in his eyes, his words carefully conducted in the environment of their office.

"Turned out to be a blow in the stomach," Della returned. She had a hard time figuring out why she felt so crushed.

Perry narrowed his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what she meant to say to him. "So are you going on a _vacation_ or not?"

"I am," Della said, picking up his involuntary offer, knowing exactly where she wanted to go. "The full six weeks of my leave if you don't mind." She looked deep into his tender eyes.

"Six weeks?" Perry was confused. "Della, what in..."

"There's something I have to take care of," she explained softly and felt tears dwelling up in her eyes. When she saw his instant shock she guessed his misunderstanding and gently shook her head. "I just need some time to think. See my family." As an adult, Della had never felt she needed her mother more than this very instant.

"I see," Perry answered a little more relieved than he had expected. Although he wasn't sure what he was relieved about exactly.

"Can you go six weeks without me?" Della asked quietly, her eyes pleading with him not to press her for any further answers.

"I'll make sure you can leave as soon as possible," Perry nodded and found her shutting him out. She was so alike him sometimes, he thought. Needed to get away to clear her mind. Little did he know about the grief she felt, how much she mourned something she longed for but was convinced they couldn't have.

* * *

><p>The first week without Della was like going cold-turkey. After too many nights of pouring himself a drink, of cricking his back from not sleeping much at all on the couch and stopping for a hasty sandwich at the grill without company, he missed her face, her voice, her smile. The warmth of her body, her scent, that arousing feeling of her fingers dancing through the curly hair on his chest. He missed her presence in his sheets, the way she wiggled herself to fit her body to his to sleep in the crook of his arm or half on top of him. How her naked feet tiptoed to the bathroom when she got up early to adjust her business outfits to her curves. That familiar sound of her hands rushing over the typewriter in her office, always trying to keep up with his pace. Her knowledge of his mind, his needs. How she made his coffee to his liking and denied it when it got too late. And then her feet, quickly slipping back into her heels when he needed her. She always thought he didn't notice that she slid them off to be more comfortable. There was no need to make her understand he did. It was so innocent a movement, so endearing to watch her looking for her shoes when they had toppled over underneath her desk. The way she masked her annoyance always tickled him, that elegant second it took her to slip her pumps back on, her voice so seductive when she moaned in frustration, a perfect get-off for him, it was so sensual with her not knowing he was into it.<p>

It was thoughts like these that made Perry realize he had never been apart from her for more than a couple of days. And Laura, although an excellent sparring partner in court, was no substitute, however much she tried to be. If he was honest, her persistence was beginning to annoy him.

When the phone rang on the second day of the third week, he propped himself up on one arm. He had finally fallen asleep over a a pile of work that was spread out all over her side of the bed. Some pieces of paper were sliding to the floor. Perry sighed. He was exhausted and happy that his head of office couldn't see the mess he was making of her carefully composed files.

"Yes," he grumbled, picturing the frown on her face once she would find the army of dog-ears. He knew she would and remark it with a frown curling up into a smile.

"I can't sleep," her voice was fogged with sleep, interspersed with subtle emotion.

"Makes two of us," Perry lied, a smile creeping all over his face.

"Want me to tell you a story?" Della asked seductively.

"If it's a bedtime story I say yes," he answered slowly and rested his head on her pillow to inhale her scent while he listened to the sound of her all too distant voice.

"There once was a girl from the Midwest," Della started to purr her way through a tale he already liked. "Who never ran away from anything but the man she loved."

"I heard she needed time," Perry interrupted her gently.

"So she said, but the overhaste of her departure suggests otherwise," Della returned with an evident smile.

"I see," Perry whispered and closed his eyes to picture her in his arms.

"The girl fled from what he offered her. She was afraid," Della continued with a warm but weak voice. "Afraid that he was giving up what mattered most to him."

"You are what matters most to me, Della." Perry couldn't help it.

"I've been gone two weeks and you still think so?" Della tried to sound playful but found herself dead serious.

"You were right," Perry answered quietly, cutting right down to the chase. "I am relieved that you are not going to have a baby."

"I know," Della said, suppressing a sob. "I'm not."

"That's what I thought," Perry almost chuckled at the irony of it all. "Are you all right?" He asked tenderly.

"No," Della replied honestly. "And you know what's funny?"

Perry shook his head. "Tell me."

"I still don't want to marry you." She laughed and didn't mind to hide her tears from him. It was a mix of emotions Perry was unfamiliar with.

"So where do we go from here?" Perry asked carefully. Those weeks without her and now her vulnerable straightforwardness, he hadn't thought it possible, but he loved her all the more.

"I really don't know," Della offered with a shrug, a sign of helplessness and not so much of resignation.

"Come home," Perry tried to plead with her but knew she would deny his wish for an early return.

"I will, eventually," she simply said. "I miss you."

Perry tried to answer her but fought with his emotions now to surface all too violently. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted her to know but after two weeks he decided to take small steps forward instead of overwhelming her.

"Can I call you?" Perry finally asked, resisting to get a ticket to fly out to see her right away.

"You have the number in your desk," Della answered sweetly. "Under E for escape or emergency."

Perry smiled. He should've known she would leave a clue for him to find her.

"Thank you, Perry," Della continued lovingly.

"For what?"

"For giving me time," she said softly.

Perry nodded. "As long as you come back to me." He didn't feel it would help to tell her how much strength it cost him these days to go through a day without her. How Laura's advances didn't help the matter. How he had needed to hear her voice. That her call couldn't have come at a better time, and that he would count the days till she would finally return to him.

He called her daily for the rest of her vacation, felt better the instance her voice welcomed him to relax against the receiver. Gertie knew she could always put her through, no matter who Perry Mason was speaking to. He made the time and was never short of excuses to do so.

When Laura entered his office one day, impertinently ignoring Gertie's authority and rushing through Della's empty office, she found Perry slouching in his chair behind the desk, laughing heartily with Della on the other side of the phone. Paul, who was walking past her, winked at her with a satisfied grin.

"Perry's kinda busy," he said in a husky tone. "Or how did you say to me once?" He tried to remember. "Oh yes, _I know it hurts, honey, but if I were you I'd take the hint_." He patted her shoulders and took Gertie with him who was silently protesting against Laura's attitude of dismissing her in front of her desk.

At home, Della fought her own little battles with the disapproving frown on her father's face since her boss had started calling her.

"Stop saying he's a decent man, Della," her father would lecture her over dinner. "If he were he wouldn't interrupt your well-deserved vacation."

"He's not interrupting," Della tried to reason with him although she felt not much older than eleven around her father. "I asked him to call if he needs anything."

"He's your employer," Theodor Street growled. "I won't have it that he disturbs you at ungodly hours. How capable is he if he needs to call you _every_ day?"

Della didn't know what to say. She knew her father only tried to protect her while her mother seemed to suspect there was more to the situation than only a lawyer who was at a loss during the absence of his acclaimed secretary.

"Are you _involved_ with him?" Her mother finally asked a short time later. It had taken her weeks to get her husband out of the way to finally speak to Della in private.

Della inhaled sharply at her mother's question and nodded abashed.

"Do you love him?" Her mother asked, implying that this could mitigate the circumstances of jeopardizing her reputation.

"Very much," Della answered without hesitation, her emotions somewhere lost between blessed and cursed.

"That's what I thought by the look on your face when you arrived," Margarete Street sat next to her daughter and wrapped her into her arms. "And did you find the answers you were looking for?" She asked gently while she stroked Della's hair the way she used to when she was a girl.

"I don't know," Della whispered. "But I know I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

Her mother nodded. The way her daughter had talked about Perry had indicated as much. "Does he know?"

Della nodded. "Pretty much."

"But he doesn't want to marry you," Margarete Street said in a soothing voice which made Della laugh.

"That's not exactly the issue," she replied and wished for a second that everything could be as uncomplicated as her life had been when she was a child.

"You've always had an independent spirit, honey," her mother said with a sigh. "But if he is willing to marry you and you love him so much, I don't understand why you're sitting here racking your brain." She shook her head. "People fall in love, they get married, they have a child."

"That's just it, mom," Della tried to explain. "Our life doesn't work that way. Perry is built differently and so am I, you've said so yourself."

"You always wanted to have a family, sweetheart," her mother tried to listen to what her daughter had to say but didn't catch the difference between her life and Della's.

"With the right man, yes," Della said quietly. "But Perry's world is the law and to love him means to embrace that world. And I love being part of it. I understand how it works, and I'm not going to take it away from him. Don't you see?" Della withdrew herself from her mother's arms and looked straight into her eyes. "That's how much I love him. And that's why I won't marry him, because he is looking for an ideal we couldn't have."

"So you are sacrificing your dream to please him?" Margarete Street asked astounded.

"Perry is my family, mom," Della smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "He showed me a world I didn't know existed. That's where I belong. It feels like home."

Margarete Street nodded and allowed her daughter's words to sink in. After all, Della looked happier since Perry Mason had started calling her. But he also seemed to be the reason why she had come in the first place.

"Are you with child?" Her mother finally asked, her voice somewhat balanced between comfort, concern and criticism.

"I am not," Della shook her head and swallowed hard.

"But you thought you were," Margarete Street saw it written all over her daughter's face.

"Yes." There was nothing else Della could deliver. After all, she couldn't lie to her mother.

"You should feel lucky," Margarete Street softly caressed her daughter's cheek.

"I know," Della agreed. "I don't."

"And why is that?" Her mother asked and watched the tears running freely from Della's eyes.

"Because I wish that this ideal he's cooked up in his mind could be real. That I could be his secretary and his loving wife. A housekeeper, barefoot and pregnant, four children running around the backyard of our Bel Air home. That he would still have time to be Perry Mason, dashing off to solve every case that comes his way. All the while I would be with him, prettier than ever, always where he needs me." Della's voice was small when she finally admitted everything she couldn't have. "That's not how it works."

"But he thinks it could," Margarete Street asked tenderly.

"Perry is such a sweet man, so detached and rational, but sometimes I think I am his fairytale and I'm the on who's fighting to keep it real." Della looked at her mother, not sure if she would grasp what she was trying to explain to her.

"I want to talk to him," her mother said without a warning. "I want to know what it is that makes you so... so... head over heels for him."

Della smiled but was nervous at the same time. "All right."

"Right now," her mother added. "I don't want your father to interfere in this."

Della eyed her mother suspiciously and got up, not sure what she had gotten herself, or Perry that matter, into by agreeing to call him.

"Gertie?" Della asked sweetly after she had dialed his direct number and no one had picked up. "It's Della Street. Is Mr. Mason not in?"

"Oh he is, Ms. Street," Gertie chirped. "He's in the library I suppose. Please hang on," the receptionist added before she connected her to his private phone.

"Now that's an unusual hour for you to call," Perry sounded tired and edgy but smooth around the edges when he flirted with her.

"My mother insisted," Della returned warmly. "She wants to meet the man who turns my life upside down."

Perry chuckled but couldn't quite hide his uneasiness. "Really? She wants to talk to me now? I'm in the middle of sifting through the aftermath of the Anderson case, you know."

"She's right here with me, has sent my father out to run some errands. She wants you all to herself," Della teased him and blushed as she saw her mother's wrinkled forehead.

"I see that runs in the family," Perry teased her and then tried to relax. "Well, all right, put her on. But I'm telling you I haven't slept a wink all night, so it's your responsibility if I screw this one up."

Della nodded, not unaware of the slight strain in his otherwise bemused voice. Perry Mason nervous? Della grinned to herself. She couldn't wait to get home to tease him about that.

Thirty minutes had passed before Margarete Street handed the receiver back to her daughter and smiled approvingly. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mason. I'll give you back to Della now for a moment, she's been dying to speak to you again."

Della shot her mother a look and shook her head with a chuckle. "Perry."

"I see where you got your poise," Perry tickled her.

"Wait until you meet my father," Della answered drily.

"I hope I will, I invited them to come out over the summer," Perry said and waited patiently for her reaction. He wasn't sure if she would squeal at him or bluster.

"You're really trying to impress them, aren't you? Now that you have them wonder what made me run away from you in the first place," Della said with a hint of mockery in her voice.

"You have your secrets, so you told me," Perry always enjoyed their little banters. "I'm just trying to uncover some of them. And who's a better source for embarrassing secrets than your parents?"

"Uh-hm," Della hummed back at him with that seductive notion that could drive him mad. "Well, good luck with that, counselor. There are a lot of family skeletons in our basement that I don't even know about." She laughed and turned around to meet her mother's glare, an expression Paul so often said he saw washing over her face when she was both bewildered and concerned.

"I gotta go now, Perry," Della hung up and gave her mother a demure smile.

"That man loves you all right," Margarete Street said matter-of-factly, a contented smile playing over her lips when Della couldn't see it. But as much an expert as she was at hiding her contentment from her daughter, Della couldn't hide hers in return. She may as well fly home a little early, she thought, six weeks, after all, were pretty long.

* * *

><p>When Della returned to Los Angeles, it was hard for them to restrain themselves in the all too public arrival hall of Los Angeles International Airport. Perry took her luggage and didn't even hug her hello, he was too afraid what a touch of her would do to him after all that time apart. So he simply smiled and didn't even speak her name. Della followed him as he took the lead and guided her to the parking lot outside. Then she glided in the passenger seat of his car and tortured him by sitting close to him. Her scent bewitched his nose and reached his tongue, he could almost taste it. Her hands looked so respectable in those gloves, neatly folded in her lap. It took them forty minutes from the airport to her apartment, thirty-eight of which Perry felt he couldn't breathe or he'd explode.<p>

When he finally closed the door to her apartment, he dropped her luggage and pulled her in a tight embrace. He held her close, almost hurt her and then captured her mouth with his. His kiss was hard and deep, he wanted her so much. Della gasped, could not catch up as he swept her up in his arms to carry her into the bedroom. He kissed her again, hardly giving her air enough to breathe. When he laid her on the bed, he was fast about undressing, first himself and then her, every precious piece of cloth. Della seemed eager to assist him, her fingers shaky, his untamed need overwhelming her and filling her with a passion of her own. Perry was quick and fierce when he came to rest on top of her, his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Those weeks without her had left him starved for making love to the woman he loved so much. So he didn't spoil her like he used to, found her quivering below him and closed his eyes as she moaned his name so fervently, his own desire enveloping him, shaking him through and through. Taking everything from her she was now offering.

When he lay sated in her arms moment later he placed lazy kisses on her sweet and sweaty skin. His heart was pounding, her legs entangled with his. She was unwilling to part from him. Perry studied her face, so beautiful, contented. He could've sworn that the little frown between her eyebrows had grown deeper since she had left, but it seemed to have eased now as she drifted off to sleep after celebrating their reunion. The first laugh lines around her eyes, her cheekbones and then her luscious smile - it was as if he looked at her for the first time and yet he knew her by heart. His hands on familiar territory, caressing her skin, finding his favorite rest stop on her belly, so soft yet tight. Her body a package of contradictions, of curves and bones. Her skin so warm yet forming goosebumps as he kissed her, his lips as light as a feather, barely touching her. That taste she left in his mouth, sweet and musk, rich somehow. Just like her voice, so full of layers and never tired of surprising him with an amplitude of sound. Like the moan born in the depth of her throat as he now took his time to welcome her back. That amorous little giggle she swallowed as his tongue parted her lips for a lingering kiss. And then her eyes, so dark and intense when she locked them with his, telling him how good it felt to be home again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

1) The six week vacation idea came from PM season 2 when Della is unfamiliar with a case and wonders how that can be and then Perry reminds her that she once took a six week vacation.

2)_ Chapter five _is already in progress, and then the Parrish will FINALLY make their appearance. So hang in there, guys! LoL! I'm getting there! :) :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

Della was amazed by the velocity of time. How a year could rush by working with Perry Mason. Or five or six for that matter. In recent years, she had become his regular witness, always faithfully serving his case. Hamilton Burger had initiated it and given her quite a scare in '58, but the more Perry had benefited from her testimonies, the more often he had deployed her, never missing out on a little flirt while substantiating her reputation with few expert questions. Della didn't mind and loved to smile her way through his scheme by now. Truth be told, she took pride in his relying on her word, the way he objected his way through her testimony if necessary to protect them both, their mechanism and his plots, her intimate knowledge of it all. It became harder though for her to conceal what she felt for him, her telling looks, the way she bent over his desk at work. It was harder the more Perry excelled at hiding his love for her. The longer she remained steadfast about her wish to remain unmarried, the better he arranged himself with it. He loved to have his own space, appreciating that hers was so different from his. It felt different making love to her in her bed, surrounded by her taste and scent. He loved waking up in her home, so much warmer and effervescent than his. Then there were days when all he wanted was some time alone, to brood and sleep on the couch because his bed felt so empty without her by his side. Fortunately, that craving never lasted long. He needed her more than she knew he did, and any excuse to make her come over to jumble his kitchen or his bathroom was a welcome distraction. It was the law however that preoccupied most of his time and he was grateful that Della rarely seemed to mind.

Della knew about his need for solitude, that craving to withdraw from the world. She had adapted to it, needed some time herself once in a while, used it to see her extended family, her many friends. She rarely envied them for the lives they led – so different from hers, with husbands and kids. Their problems so small compared to murder and yet so grave, Della felt lucky not to have any of this. The everyday, routine and love gone nasty, boring, gloomy at times. She loved to be a guest, an aunt, always welcome for a visit, a weekend or a week at times. Never too long apart from him, she had learned her lesson. Perry had told her, after all, about Laura's advances while she had been gone to cope with the loss of the baby they never had. His truth had humbled her and hurt her just the same. It was then that she had questioned her motives to stay unattached until she realized that jealousy would not be a solid enough ground to base a marriage on. She had licked her wounds instead, seduced Perry into wanting her more and wickedly kept her usual graceful distance. Della wasn't the type to punish her loved ones, but she enjoyed seeing Perry making it up to her, never openly addressing it but sensing that the source for Della's irritation was Laura as a person and not so much his semi-innocent flirtation with another woman. Della had grown accustomed to Perry's quirks and happily disguised her own. She got used to a lot of things over the years and often rolled her eyes at the circumstances her love for him continued to get her into. She found herself kissing a stranger for Perry to watch, to lure in a suspect, never kissing that man on the mouth though, her eyes on Perry while she performed her stunt, seeing his pair of blue dancing with jealousy and passion at the same time. She played family with a friend's baby, doted on Perry's affection for the little girl, reminded of possibilities therein, but chuckled at him for getting a kick out of calling himself Mr. Street to deceive an elderly babysitter lady. On occasion, he asked her to flirt Tragg out of his wits to rest a case and give the poor man a heart attack, especially since he had started remarking Della's ravishing beauty, always spot on after one of their particularly _busy_ nights out of the office. Perry always said that she should peck the Lieutenant eventually, to make a dream come true for the old pal, that was when Della knew that Perry took quite a liking to role-playing with her, to seeing her squirm her way out of precarious situations. Why she kept playing along she often wondered, after all, she was not a floozie, nor a liar. But there were those lies she only told for him, and she knew it was way too easy for Perry to convince her to do so. But she liked the thrill, loved how he marveled at her power of persuasion and how he rewarded her afterwards. Steak dinners or skin on skin, he always knew how to cut a deal. She had never allowed any man to shower her with so much love, but it was useless to fight it now: she was hooked on his everything.

Somehow their most recent case had changed a lot of things, stirred up so many fears and worries Della had managed to cast aside over the years. Patrick Kelley, entrepreneur of the ruthless making, one of the few clients Perry had abandoned after first considering to take him on. He had tickled Perry's curiosity, his sense of justice, until he had ensnarled himself in contradictions and, on top of it all, spoken to Della in a dismissive and harassing way. Not that he would have been the first man to ignore Della or to tell her off, but the way he had molested her had displeased Perry to his core. Della had tried to reason with him without uttering a word, but Perry had been relentless in his rejection of Mr. Kelley, a move the prospective client promised Perry would regret. And although he tried to hide it, Della knew he did in a way. It was Mr. Kelley's ties to the tabloids that worried him, the innuendos he made about their _improper_ relationship to the yellow press. Not that Perry cared about gossip, he had always been clear about ignoring it. But the tone of the articles bugged him, the threatening nature of Mr. Kelley's course of action. The possible effects on Della's reputation and the way Kelley had ambushed her in the garage that made him angry and had brought him to guard her like a precious piece of jewelry. After filing a complaint, Patrick Kelley had kept his distance but Della feared he had not been after her so much but after Perry instead and his soft spot to aim his lethal weapon at.

So when a clue came in that could book Kelley for deception and fraud, Perry had rushed off with Paul to follow it. Della had voiced her protest loud and clear, her gut feeling had told her to stay away from it, to hand it to Tragg and go home. But Perry wouldn't hear it. He wanted to tackle Kelley himself.

How she wished he would be making love to her now. Della rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes to will away the throbbing headache that always annoyed her when she was trying to shrug off her concern. But she was scared, plain and simple. Not for the first time since they had become entangled in each other's lives. But this scare was different, it felt real and threatening. Paul's assistance was the only tranquillizer in this situation. She trusted him to keep a cool head, something Perry had always proven to have, until Patrick Kelley had insinuated that his retainer included an exclusive _assignation_ with "the office babe".

When Paul finally arrived at the office, he was alone. It was only 5:30 am and Della was busy-beeing around the office in her usual outward calm when the private eye entered Perry's office, his steps sagging and slow. Della immediately felt that what he had come to tell her was bad news. The kind she had expected to come ever since Perry had acted on behalf of his feelings for her.

"Morning, Della," Paul sounded exhausted when he looked at her, uneasiness clouding his eyes. The fact alone that he didn't call her beautiful only added to the gravity of his words.

"Where is he?" Della Street looked up from a pile of files on Perry's desk and straightened her dress. Her face was controlled, her voice warm as usual. She didn't want Paul to see the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome her.

"St. Mary's," Paul looked deep into her eyes, looking for something he didn't find. Panic or rage. Accusations, tears, unrest. "Grab your coat, I'll take you."

Della simply nodded and gathered her things in her usual quick precision. She looked perfectly calm when she scribbled down a note for Gertie to know where to look for them if necessary, then locked the office. She didn't look at Paul, didn't dare to ask what had happened after all. She went through the motions, her steps quick behind Paul's, following him to Perry's car. It was parked up front, stains of blood speckled over the passenger's seat. Della gulped, fluttered her eyes and pursed her lips to swallow the pain that pierced her heart. When Paul opened the door for her she slid in, careful not to brush against the blood as if she could hurt Perry by touching it. Paul glared at her, lost with words himself, willing to draw her close to him but refraining from it. Her composure didn't allow him to read what she needed most. So they drove in silence till they finally reached St. Mary's hospital and Paul parked the car up front. Della exited the care in one swift move, barely giving him time to assist her. Then she looked at him, waited for him to take the lead. He saw control masking her face and discomfort in her steps as she followed him. He had never known a woman who could cry out so loudly without making a sound.

"The first bullet went right through," the young doctor said moments later after Della had calmly insisted on getting some news from the front desk nurse at the emergency room. "He was lucky to have your friend here pull him to the floor. We don't know yet about the second."

Paul smiled ruefully. He had been sloppy and knew that Perry could have gotten out of the hotel room unharmed if only he had reacted faster. If he had not been distracted by the bombshell blonde passing the hallway. So he didn't return Della's tormented smile and excused himself for a minute. He couldn't bare to have her see him scared for Perry's life.

When he returned minutes later and opened the door to the waiting area without making much of a sound, he found Della Street alone in the room, caving in. Her shoulders stiff, she stood painfully erect. Her right hand was busy massaging her forehead, her left arm was flung around her own waist as if to give herself some comfort. Then she moved all of a sudden, her body shook and quivered. Paul heard a whimper, so deep and low, it erupted right from Della's core. She looked so frail and yet her voice suggested a force of sorrow Paul was unfamiliar with. She was not hysterical, nor bordering a shriek. Her voice was full of pain, born deep within her soul, wrenching his heart. The private eye stood and watched her helplessly, how the shock enveloped her, how her hand moved over her mouth to muffle a desperate scream. It was as if she was already mourning him.

"Della," Paul whispered. The door closed now to give them some privacy.

Della winced and turned around, drying her tears only to shed more.

"He'll be fine," Paul assured her, inertly closing the gap between them.

"I don't want you to tell Perry any of this," she said in a determined yet brittle voice. Her pain was so apparent, Paul couldn't help but carefully wrap her in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, beautiful," Paul whispered onto the top of her head when she accepted his soothing embrace.

"It's not your fault," Della returned quietly, calming down. "Perry wanted to go after this guy. I'm just glad you had his back." She raised her head and looked at Paul, tears still glistening in her eyes, tainting her grateful smile.

"I thought it was reckless paying a visit to a character like Kelley," Paul tried to shrug off her gratitude. He didn't deserve it after all.

"I know you tried to stop him," Della nodded. "So did I."

"You cannot stop a man who's in love," Paul answered her with a knowing smile.

"Is it that obvious?" Della asked carefully, feeling her cheeks blushing a little with embarrassment.

"Are you kidding me?" Paul returned with a tender smile and placed a friendly kiss on the top of her head. "Perry worships the ground you're walking on Della," he added in an unusual melancholy tone. "I may be biased, but I'm neither deaf nor blind."

Della shook her head and tried to shrug him off. "Oh, you." She chuckled humbly in-between persistent sobs.

"He's going to be all right, beautiful," Paul smiled and caressed her hair. "He's too stubborn to let a guy like Kelley finish him off."

Della Street nodded and rested her head on his chest.

"He may want you to know though that he didn't lose his head," Paul cupped her head under his chin. "We both walked into Kelley's trap. It all happened so fast."

"Cool as a cucumber until the bullets started flying, eh?" Della tried to recover her sense of humor.

"Never losing his cool," Paul confirmed her guess. "Except..." The private eye loosened is embrace and looked deep into Della's eyes. "He loves you very much, beautiful."

"I know," Della answered under her breath, suppressing another wave of distress.

"And here they come," Paul added quietly as he spotted Tragg thought the door window in the hallway of the hospital.

Della Street followed Paul's eyes, moved away from his arms, straightened her shoulders and nodded. She quickly retouched her makeup and tousled up her hair. "Do I look presentable?"

Paul nodded. "Always."

Della smiled warmly at the detective and made one of her wordless remarks Paul Drake loved so much. Then Lieutenant Tragg approached them with a disheartened smile on his face and opened the door.

"Whatever has Perry gotten himself into this time?" Tragg asked and eyed Della suspiciously. She looked shaken but was holding up. Paul on the other hand looked crushed.

"Someone used Perry as a clay pigeon," Paul Drake returned matter-of-factly.

"He got hit?" Tragg asked incredulously.

"They are still patching him up," Paul nodded and watched Della regaining her composure.

"Lucky son of a gun," the Lieutenant gave back and shot Della a sympathetic look. "How are you holding up?"

Della gazed at him, covering her surprise and appreciated his concern after all these years. "I should be used to Perry getting himself into hazardous situations by now, don't you think?" The smile she flashed him was not her usual genuine.

Tragg nodded and dared to reach out a hand to rest on her shoulder in a friendly pat. "I'm not sure anyone is ever prepared for this." Then he looked at her without withdrawing his hand. It was a rare sign of comfort Tragg was giving her, insinuating that he knew indeed there was more between the infamous lawyer and his loyal secretary. "Especially if you've been _associated_ with someone for so long."

Della held his gaze and smiled sadly with her eyes, then turned her head as the doctor joined them with a stern look on his face.

"Miss Street?" His voice sounded professional, his posture suggested exhaustion and haste. "I understand you are Mr. Mason's emergency contact? His confidante?"

Della nodded and turned her back to both, Paul Drake and Lieutenant Tragg.

"There are some papers we need you to sign, some information we need," the doctor said calmly. "I take it you are familiar with Mr. Mason's medical history?"

Della nodded again, and followed the doctor outside. "Is he out of surgery yet?"

"Oh yes," the doctor answered with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. He's in recovery right now."

"Can I see him?" Della asked patiently, perfectly masking her disquiet.

"Wouldn't you rather wait for him to be awake?" The doctor presented the papers for her to sign in Perry's name.

"I'd rather see him as soon as possible," Della answered graciously in order to convince the doctor of her sincerity.

"Of course," the doctor nodded and gratefully accepted Della's quick answers on the forms in front of her. "I'll see what I can do." Then he waved at a nurse to show her to the recovery room. "This is Ms Street, she's here to see Mr. Mason."

The nurse nodded and waited for Della to finish filling in the papers. "If you'll follow me," the elderly nurse addressed Della with a polite smile. "Mr. Mason was already brought to his room."

"How is he doing?" Della asked carefully. She tried hard to mask her pulsing concern.

"Oh, he will be much better soon," the nurse returned sweetly. "He's already asked for you."

* * *

><p>It took Perry a week to get impatient enough to convince Della to get him released from the hospital into her care. Perry Mason was a lot of things, but he was not an uncomplaining patient. He was rather moody with the nurses and the food. Not that he would growl at them on purpose, but the way they treated him like a baby bothered him. Della didn't, although her care threatened to smother him at first. He had grown accustomed to her take charge attitude when he lay passed out on his couch with a cold, but her nursing skills had reached a whole new level since she had tried to hide her concern for him after his <em>accident<em>, quite unsuccessfully.

"Della, don't you have some work to do?" He had snapped at her shortly before she had signed the papers to take him home with her.

"I do," she had quipped. "He's 6'1'' tall and as cranky as a two-year-old. That's as much work as I can handle right now."

At his apartment, Della was wise enough to realize that she shouldn't perform his tasks for him. His shoulder was still giving him a lot of pain and the medication didn't really help much to do away with the state of his annoyance. The only thing that did help was her doting on him just enough to make him remember his old self again.

After a month of nursing Perry at his apartment and sleeping in a separate bedroom to give him space to toss at night, Della found herself at a loss. Perry had returned to work but was out of synch: with her, his arm, their life. She wasn't sure what it was. If he had simply grown tired of her presence or if it was the pain she assumed he was hiding from her. For all she knew was that whenever she tried to touch the subject of the shooting, Perry avoided it and growled at her.

When his shoulder finally got better after Della had insisted on him holding it still for as long as he could during the day, Perry's mood improved but was not as playful around her it used to be.

"What do you want to have for dinner?" Della asked him one late afternoon, dressed casually in his apartment. Her skirt shorter these days in the 60s than it used to be, but Perry didn't even avert his eyes from the files in front of him.

"Whatever's available around the house," he answered gruffly and buried himself in a boring case.

Della nodded and tried to do the same, but then her mind was busy looking for a way for Perry to snap out of his misery.

"We could have oysters," Della said in a husky voice, trying to get his undivided attention.

"Whatever you want," Perry answered flatly and ignored the seductive undertone that usually got him going within seconds.

Della deserted her pile of work and crossed the room to rest right next to him on the couch. She wrapped his arm around her while he kept reading and placed soft kisses on his jawline and his neck.

"Della, please," Perry interrupted her, his tone almost harsh. "I need to get this done till tomorrow." He didn't even look at her but brushed her off.

Della cringed. His message was clear. She bit her lips and swallowed the hurt of his rejection. Then she sat across from him again to resume her work, only to leave him for the first time in six weeks after she had prepared his dinner of what she had found in his fridge.

When Della entered the office the following day, she found Perry already sitting at his desk at 7am. Guilt was written all over his face, grumpiness and something she couldn't quite place.

"Good morning, Perry," Della welcomed him in her usual warm voice.

"I put my notes on your desk," he answered shortly. "I'd appreciate it if you got to it right away."

Della looked at him, irritation clearly visible on her face. "Of course, counselor." She tried to mask her frustration but was unsure how much longer she would be able to keep going like this.

"And please close the door, your typing is a little distracting."

Della Street glared at him. His voice was not mean or condescending. He was strictly business with her, nothing there to suggest he was anything beyond her employer. And she, as his secretary, a valued asset in his practice. Della stood motionless for a moment, then turned on her heels and closed the door behind her without making a sound. Then she sat at her desk, took in a deep breath and buzzed Gertie who was just coming in.

"No calls for Mr. Mason today, Gertie," she said quietly and smiled at the receptionist's unshaken cheerfulness. At least one person at the office had remained unaffected by current events, Della thought and didn't like how Perry's attitude had changed overall.

"The boss in?" Paul Drake asked around lunch time while Della was still busy typing up Perry's notes.

"Still brooding over his briefs," Della Street answered with a strained voice. She was tired from the pace her emplyoer was exhibiting as of late.

"Keeping you busy?" Paul sat on her desk, his back turned to Perry's connecting door.

"I don't know if he's trying to keep me off his back or if that's his way of coping with being vincible," Della answered quietly. She was clearly exhausted and at odds with the situation.

"Don't let him get to you, beautiful," Paul tried to support her.

"And how do I do that?" Della asked, frustration reflected in her eyes.

Paul glared at her and shrugged. He didn't like where this was going. Seven weeks after having been shot, Perry did really have enough time to get his act together.

"Is he free?" Paul shook his head more to himself than to Della and got up from her desk.

"No appointment until 2pm," Della answered tiredly.

"You go grab a bite while I talk some business with Mr. Cranky," Paul reached out his hand to caress her face.

"I don't want you to..." Della tried to tell Paul not to say anything about her turmoil.

"I know," Paul nodded and handed her her purse. "You go now and leave us alone." He insisted in a smooth voice and almost shoved her out the door.

When Della accepted her fate and decided to have a well-deserved lunch after all, Paul entered Perry's office without a knock and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Hello there, pal" he started cheekily. "We need to talk."

Perry Mason kept his eyes glued to the briefs in front of him and inhaled sharply to dismiss Paul as clearly as he had Della earlier. But Paul vut in before Perry could even finish breathing in.

"How many levels of boneheaded are you?" Paul glared at his friend while he slouched in his usual chair by Perry's desk.

"Excuse me?" Perry finally looked up and met the private eye's stare with surprise.

"I have no idea what's been going on and be sure to know Della wouldn't tell me," Paul said sternly. "But this better stop or I'll bop you on the head until you hear the birds chirping."

Perry inhaled again and tried to shrug off Paul's remarks, but the detective wasn't done.

"This woman has run your office and nursed you for a good six weeks, pal." Paul's voice was bordering the angry now. "I don't know how she's done it but she did. And she's never complained. Not once. She's listened to your grumpy. She endured your silence. She's trying to keep up with that ridiculous pace you've taken on since she understood that you're done tolerating a nurse. And what do you do? You push her away!"

"I thought you didn't know what's been going on," Perry leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest suggesting self-defense.

"I've known you both far too long to miss the nuances," Paul answered matter-of-factly, never letting go of Perry's eyes.

"Are you a psychic now?" Perry was tempted to chuckle but felt he shouldn't. Paul was not in the mood to get friendly right now.

"I'm trying to be a friend here, Perry," Paul answered flatly. "And as your friend I must tell you that you've been a pain lately."

Perry Mason gulped.

"I know it's hard to hear and I don't like saying it, but that's how it is." Paul waited for Perry to give him a grumpy comeback but the lawyer merely looked at him and then leaned forward to rest his forearms on his desk, his eyes thoughtful and wide.

"What did she say?" Perry asked calmly.

"Not much," Paul replied. "But judging by her demeanor you must've hurt her pretty badly."

Perry looked at him with sad eyes. "I didn't mean to."

"What kind of a difference does that make?" Paul asked gruffly. "Tell her you're sorry and do whatever it is you're usually doing. I'm sure you have your ways."

Perry Mason didn't feel like answering the first sign of a friendly smile on Paul Drake's face. He knew he was right, but this time words didn't come easy to him.

"I'm thinking about leaving L.A. for a while," Perry started carefully, his own feelings about his plan still unsorted and new.

Paul was speechless and threw his arms up in the air to emphasize his bafflement.

"I need a change," Perry tried his best to continue, partly reasoning with himself.

"You do realize that this woman out there loves you more than life itself, don't you?" Paul was calm but felt strangely offended. He couldn't understand why Perry could wish to throw it all away. "She deserves better than to be shrugged off only because a bullet showed you that you will die one day. Well here's news to you, pal, you are mortal. We all are. And you better learn to hold on to the gifts life has given you or you'll end up putting your career first until no one will nurse you unless you pay them to do so."

Perry didn't have the words to answer Paul. He knew he was right but he couldn't convince himself that he was. So he sat and watched how his friend left his office through the backdoor, shaking his head, mumbling to himself.

* * *

><p>When Della returned from an involuntarily extended lunch, she found the connecting door between hers and Perry's office open. She popped her head into his office and spotted him sitting on the couch, his eyes restlessly scanning the room.<p>

"Perry?" Della asked carefully and closed the door behind her as she walked in. "Are you all right?" She asked and crossed the room to set the lunch bag she had brought for him on the table before she knelt down to level with him.

Perry Mason gazed at her and cupped her face gently in one of his large hands. He moved his thumb over her tender lips and fondled her chin. Della closed her eyes. It had been weeks since he had spoiled her with the touch of his hands, allowed her to be close to him without chasing her away. When Della re-opened her eyes, she found Perry crying silent tears. His mouth seemed to wish to release a sound but his voice failed him to express his pain. Della felt her heart busting at the sight of him. His broad shoulders began to quake as the tears rocked through his body and streamed down his face. She got up and sat next to him on the couch as quickly as she could and offered her arms to soothe him. Perry clang to her and rested his face in her lap, nestling against that belly he loved to coddle so much. It took a minute or two until his voice followed his body and he cried out the anguish he had bottled up for all those weeks.

Della sat and bit down her own tears while her fingers caressed his head with loving care. She felt his arms drawing her close; he tried to hide in her. His lips kissed her belly and he sighed as her fingers twiddled his hair and moved down his neck onto his back. He felt so sorry for what he had been doing to her.

When his tears finally dried under her touch, he closed his eyes and nestled further in her embrace. Della's voice was soothing him, gently telling him to get some rest, some sleep. So he kept his eyes closed, abandoned himself to her caress and inhaled her scent. He felt her lips kissing the top of his head, her voice whispering words to him his mind couldn't grasp as he followed her advice and drifted off to sleep.

When Perry woke again some time later, it was dark outside and Della looked at him with tired eyes. "Better?"

Perry nodded and slowly propped himself up on the couch to gather her in his arms like he used to. Della welcomed his initiative and released a familiar moan as soon as she had found her favorite position with him.

"I love you," Della whispered and welcomed his tender caress on her waist and hip.

"I know you do," Perry answered quietly and placed a soft kiss onto her head.

They sat in silence for a while, finally going back to feeling comfortable without speaking, of holding each other through the mess of it all.

"I've decided to go to D.C. for a while," Perry suddenly broke their new-found rhythm. "Georgetown has offered me a semester to teach."

Della closed her eyes and moved her hand to fondle his chest. Of course she knew about the invitation but she had not expected him to consider it. After all, six months was a long time.

"I see," she said meekly.

"I need you to run our business while I'm gone," Perry added with hesitation, trying hard not to hurt her.

Della nodded. She had not expected him to ask her to come along. He needed time. Away from L.A., away from her.

"When are you going to leave?" Her voice was so calm when she spoke, she almost choked.

"Six weeks from tomorrow," Perry answered and buried his face in her curls. "The university has offered to arrange everything for me."

* * *

><p>It was the last week with him that hit Della the hardest. Although relieved to see him excited about his change of routine on rather short notice, she ached to help him through his crisis at home. It hurt her to understand that he had to step away from her to get it out of his system after all.<p>

Paul had made clear that he disapproved of Perry's decision, but Della had urged him not to let this taint their friendship.

"Don't you worry about me, Paul," Della had said to him. "I'll manage just fine."

"I know you will," the private eye had answered, tired of concealing his brotherly feelings for her. "It's Perry I'm worried about. These students are promiscuous these days."

Della had chuckled. "And that's something you would complain about?"

Paul had smiled at her and caressed one of her cheeks with the back of his hand. "I will if it hurts you, beautiful."

Della knew he had been sincere about his concern and appreciated it. After all, at forty-nine, Perry was as handsome as ever. At the same time however she did not allow herself to think about this possibility. Married or not, she was committed to Perry, felt he was to her, and trusted him to know when to draw the line.

When she saw him off at the airport then, it was awkward to let him go. She felt strangely reminded of her own crisis, ten years ago, after she had found herself struggling with the loss of a baby she hadn't even known she wanted. Unlike Perry though, Della had needed the comfort of her family, and then ultimately his love to get over it all.

Della understood that despite their many similarities, his grief did not match hers. While she was able to swallow it momentarily, she could not run away from how she felt. Perry did. He liked to keep himself busy and then needed a break in his pattern eventually. So to her own disadvantage, she was too close to him to actually be able to help. He wouldn't let her, had shown her a rare insight into the depth of his pain but now needed to cope with it on his own.

When he kissed her goodbye, it was a friendly kiss, nothing an innocent bystander would have considered passionate. Della tried to meet his reserve and held her hands in his for as long as he would let her.

"I'll be back in six months," Perry said in a husky voice that suggested that he would miss her after all.

"Call me when you've arrived," Della smiled at him with tears in her eyes.

Perry Mason nodded. There was nothing more to say. When he walked down the gangway he didn't turn around, it would only pain him to see her already awaiting his return.

In D.C. then, Perry Mason was overwhelmed by a heavy schedule his own secretary could've put together for him in person. He had barely put down his bag before he was swamped with welcome parties, student body interviews and personal requests. So he squeezed in a message to his temporary assistant to contact Ms Della Street and confirm his arrival. The young law student gladly complied and delivered the message to a friendly receptionist on behalf of Mr. Mason's head of office.

Della got the note an hour later, returning from Paul Drake's office to run over some of his invoices. She was crestfallen to have missed Perry's call until she realized he hadn't bothered to get through to her in person at all.

It took Perry a week to get settled in his new home and life. With law school starting in a month, he still had plenty of time to look for a fitting pastime to keep him busy outside of class. And with museums quickly checked off on his list, he didn't crave for much of a cultural diversion anymore. It all seemed to remind him too much of the many activities he liked to enjoy with Della which deferred the reason for this trip. It was her whom she tried to get away from after all, wasn't it? Perry wondered about his own motives to run away so quickly. He had felt estranged from her since his _accident_ – that's how he called it, that lapse of better judgment. When his blind loyalty for her had gotten him shot in the first place. He was angry at her for making him act on impulses because, in the end, he was still a man of rationale. Perry shook his head, he couldn't face too much time alone to brood. He knew he loved her, had felt safe lying in her arms when she was trying to give him comfort in spite of everything he had said or concealed. He missed making love to her, that yearning to be with her no matter what. But at the same time, Patrick Kelley and his bullets seemed to have done away with it forever.

* * *

><p>It was a week before classes when Perry Mason first met Laura Parrish. He stood in the foyer of a grand hotel in Washington, awaiting the beginning of a civil rights meeting. Perry had decided to spend his time with something worthwhile while he was waiting for the semester to begin for good. He was so tired of figuring out why after all these years, all he could think of was running away from the only woman who had ever made him feel loved for who he was.<p>

The beauty of the young woman was striking, Perry recalled later when they laughed about that first hello. A young lawyer herself, freshly out of law school, she did have an unusually quick way of budding heads with her colleagues, very much to the entertainment of the great Perry Mason. That's how she called him, always tongue-in-cheek, but charming. Her looks did away with a lot of things.

It took Perry a week to understand that she was married, recently filed for divorce. Her husband was unhappy with the heavy workload she was putting on her own shoulders to kick off a career she had studied so hard for. She had put off law school for a couple of years to wait for her husband to finish school and start his business. After pulling her through law school, he was now unhappy to actually see her aiming for other ideals than a house and kids. In late 1966 though, young Laura Parrish felt obliged to her own ideas of married life and tried to make it on her own if necessary.

It was three months into Perry's teaching experience that he felt he had gotten close enough to ask her for more details. It seemed that their mutual unfamiliarity with the city and the turmoil in both of their lives had helped create a sizzling bond between them. Not that Perry had told her anything about his troubles so far, but Laura seemed to guess there was more to his D.C. visit than his love for the law and his unappeasable hunger for adventure.

"So, what is it exactly that made you decide to divorce your husband," Perry asked over a second bottle of wine, sitting dangerously close to the young woman who was beginning to preoccupy his mind.

"He doesn't like lawyers," Laura replied drily and didn't mind to hide a throaty laugh. Perry Mason was so comfortable being around, she thought.

"What makes you think that?" Perry was tickled by her unselfconsciousness.

"He said so," Laura replied honestly. "During one of our fights." She shrugged and giggled. "I find myself missing those the most. Isn't that strange?"

"I've never met a woman who's so eager to bud heads with someone," Perry admitted amused. "There's always a first I guess."

"It's a generational thing if you pardon my bluntness," Laura offered. "I'm not half as demure as my older sister, bless her heart. She could be yelled at and still be charming. I don't believe in that."

"I've always liked demure," Perry answered. "With the right sense of fire."

"I didn't know that went along," Laura poured herself another glass of wine and leaned in to Perry who did not shy away from her advances.

"Oh, it's a rare find, but it's worth looking for," Perry said with a smile that turned somewhat melancholy.

"So what brought you out to D.C., Perry Mason?" Laura teased him. "Is that mixture of demure and fire the reason?"

Perry reached for his glass and avoided her gaze, as well as an answer.

"Aha!" Laura exclaimed clearly tipsy from all that wine. "Guilty as charged," she giggled at his failing attempt to change the subject.

"You know, I find this..." Perry started but was interrupted by an untroubled woman lawyer who nestled in his embrace.

"Oh no, no, no!" She placed a lingering kiss onto his neck. "I've told you everything about my unsupportive husband and I know nothing about your precious little reason to come out here. And don't tell me it's because you love teaching so much. I know you secretly loathe it."

"I don't," Perry answered her and felt aroused by Laura's perpetual teasing kisses. "I was shot. This is my way of coping with it."

"I see," Laura smiled bewitchingly and locked her mouth hungrily with his. "And that demure fire of yours didn't know the tricks?"

Perry closed his eyes to the feeling of Laura's mouth exploring his skin. It had been months since he last felt like letting go. Like making love again. It was that unknown scent of her surrounding him, the feeling of her weight slowly easing down on his lap, her dauntlessness in taking the lead with him.

"It's all right," she whispered in a seductive voice and pulled him into another kiss. "I know it's not me you 're thinking of."

Perry was startled for a beat but that sense of being seduced mixed with the intoxicating effect of the many glasses of wine - Perry felt the world spinning around him. He leaned back and enjoyed as much of it as he could. He was in the moment. No right or wrong, his mind was clouded, from the wine, the young woman or that ache he felt in his heart for something he couldn't describe. He didn't know, but it felt good.

* * *

><p>When he had fallen asleep, he didn't know. But when he woke late at night, Laura was gone. She had left a note on the table: "thanks for the lovely night".<p>

Perry sat down on the couch and wished he could smile, but all he felt was guilt and a pain he had never experienced before. He read the note and felt ashamed and lost because nothing that may have been _lovely_ to Laura had been imprinted on his memory. The night was blank, only her with him on the couch, making out as Paul would say.

How he had made it to his bed he didn't know and wondered if he wanted to. It was an automatic reaction to reach for the phone.

"Della, are you there?" His voice sounded rough and pained when he called her for the first time in months.

"Perry, what's going on?" Della was hurt, then concerned and astonished to hear his voice pleading with her.

"I need you to come to D.C.," he said quietly. "Please, darling. I think I've made a big mistake."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> The scenes mentioned in the beginning (Della on the witness stand, kissing another man while Perry watches, Della and Perry playing family) are all in reference to the Perry Mason TV series, seasons 1 and 2.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six**

When Della boarded the PanAm machine a little after 8am, she knew this was not how it was supposed to be. If Perry wanted to confess to a mistake, he should be the one flying out to her. But his voice, the late hour of his call, it all had triggered a chain reaction of emotions. She was cross with him and hurt, but at the same time she was relieved that he had called. He needed her. She hated to admit it, but that fact alone had been the driving force in her decision to go.

In the four months without Perry at the office and in her life, Della had found herself keeping busy to not lose her mind. She had been stuck with that feeling of abandonment, cutting deep and carving into her whenever someone had asked how he has doing. She had always lied to brush them off. "Busy as always. He's doing fine." She didn't want anyone to know that she was clueless about his D.C. life.

Paul Drake had been the only one who knew, and Gertie, although she hadn't said a thing. In her sweetness, she had been lost with words about Della's situation, knowing about the secret the secretary was keeping from everyone outside the office. She had seen the signs, known for sure when, weeks ago, Della had asked her to reschedule appointments and close up early, a worn out Perry Mason lying in her arms like a battered child. A lot of things had changed since the lawyer had been shot and his absence had been gaining severity with every day he had been away. Della Street had done her best to hold it all together, struggled most with herself. But as much as she had excelled at creating a facade for clients and distant friends alike, everyone who knew Della up-close and personal had seen the deterioration in her poise. It had been written all over her face, although impeccable in appearance as always, that worry line between those delicately fixed brows had grown deeper the longer the silence between her and Perry Mason had lasted. Della's pain had been so evident since Perry had gotten shot that even her father had finally grasped the nature of his daughter's relationship with her employer although he had refrained from frowning on it at his wife's urging.

"You see, what I don't understand about the two of you," her mother had said on the phone, "he dashes off to D.C., having the crisis of his life no doubt, not trusting you with his issues but giving you full authority over everything in his absence. And you stay behind, run his office and cope with this trauma on his terms without biting his head off. Tell me, honey, what's wrong with that picture?"

"You sound like Paul," Della had merely offered, lost with an explanation herself. She wasn't normally that compliant with men, something her parents had often scolded her for since she had been a young adult and called off her first engagement at the tender age of nineteen.

"I like that man," Margarete Street's smile had been noticeable in her voice. "It's good to know that, in spite of it all, you're left with one reliable friend."

Paul had indeed proven to be a friend in rocky times. Facing a crisis of his own after the hail of bullets had missed him but injured Perry, he had found his own way of overcoming it by finally asking one of his regular dates to marry him. Della had been glad to hear the news. A little distraction from the uproar of feelings she so desperately tried to hide from everyone. He had also popped in his head at the office every day to check on her and make her smile. It had saved her more than once after she had spent so many lonely nights in Perry's bed, surrounding herself with his scent and scolding herself for being so needy.

When Della slid in her assigned seat in first class, she remembered Paul's teasing and his smile when he had shared wedding plans with her and moaned about the costs of it all. The secretary chuckled at the memory now that she sat in first class. It had been the last seat available on such a short notice and for once she didn't mind the extra expense and leaned back, flashing a smile at the air hostess who asked if she had any special requests. Della shook her head and simply asked not to be woken before arriving in D.C. Then she closed her eyes, Paul's voice ringing in her head after their quick morning good-bye at the office.

"I take it Perry has learned to use a phone?" Paul had given her a charming smile to cover the lack of understanding in his voice.

Della had nodded while she had grasped some papers and left a note on Gertie's desk for her to know how to reach her and when. "Figured it out this morning."

"I hope you know what you're doing," the detective had remarked with a sigh.

"Have you ever seen me making rash decisions?" Della had returned with a smile that told him she was not in the mood to justify her reasons to indulge Perry.

"I've seen you doing a lot for Perry," Paul had given back in caring voice. "I hope he appreciates it."

"I wouldn't go if I thought he won't," Della had lied to convince herself. Like Paul, she was not sure if Perry actually knew what he was doing to her.

"We've arrived, Miss Street." Della woke with a start as the stewardess gently squeezed her shoulder.

"What time is it?" Della asked in a tired voice while she untangled herself from her seat belt and the blanket the young woman must've covered her with to keep her warm.

"Pushing 4:30 local time, ma'am," the air hostess replied in a sweet voice. "You better put on a coat on your way out, winter has come early to D.C. this year."

* * *

><p>Perry had not been able to sleep since he had called Della around 5:30am Eastern time. He knew it was a lot to ask from her, coming out to D.C. so suddenly without any explanation. After all those weeks of silence, when he had simply not known what to say to her.<p>

So Perry had decided to get up and do the only thing that got him through any day: work. He worked a lot from his provisional home these days, always missing his office in L.A., the view from his window and Della's familiar face right next to him, taking shorthand or cocking an eyebrow to skip a verbal remark. Gillian, his Georgetown assistant, young, ambitious and working her way through law school, was serving his needs as best as she could. But she was no Della Street, he had known right from the start and didn't expect her to rival Della's many aptitudes. After all, he wasn't looking for a substitute. He had come to Washington to free his mind, to figure out why he had not felt at ease since he had been shot: neither with his life, nor with Della. Her care had almost suffocated him, and her distance the farther he had pushed her away. He needed her close but had not been able touch her. He longed for her when he dreamed at night, missed her presence in his bed, those little sounds she only made for him. It drove him crazy not to see her now, but living with her had driven him mad just the same. He needed his space, his time alone, but then his heart had finally told him to call her, his body, his skin. It had hurt not wanting her when she had been around enduring his moods, and ached since he had left Los Angeles. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had decided not to come out to see him.

Perry frowned. He knew he had made a mistake by taking flight. That's what it was, after all, his sudden craving for solitude and new adventures. He had never been the academic type, didn't like the system and the show-off gatherings and affairs. But he did fairly enjoy the everyday exchange with his students in and outside of the classroom and now wished to share it with Della once she would arrive. It was awkward thinking of her, feeling that need to hold her again after all this time, right after he had kissed another woman and blacked-out on the rest of their night.

When Laura Parrish stopped by around 9am, breakfast in hand and her usual uninhibited smile gracing her face, Perry hesitated to let her in. He did not feel as comfortable around her as he used to, didn't know if he was glad not to remember or worried. Laura however seemed to be perfectly at ease and swayed past him with two quick steps.

"Good morning," She greeted him cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

Perry shook his head, still unsure how to approach her about what had happened between them.

"Me either," the young woman returned with a chuckle. "Must've been the wine. Too much of it I'm afraid. I should know by now." She dropped the coffee and muffins on the coffee table and made herself comfortable on the couch. "Now don't just stand there like a stuffed dummy," she called out and beckoned to him. "I'm not in the mood to let this get awkward between us, Perry. I've come to value you too much as a friend. Please, sit down." She patted the space next to her on the couch. "I'm sure we'll laugh about it in no time."

Perry gazed at her and slowly took a seat right next to the young woman lawyer. "

"There you go," Laura exclaimed and pecked his cheek. "Now choose a muffin or I'll eat them both."

Perry didn't move but tried to read Laura's face. Her behavior appeared to be as carefree as ever, but underneath her well-rehearsed masquerade, he suspected a whole different mix of emotions.

"I have a guest coming in tonight," Perry said calmly and watched how she lived up to her promise to scarf down both muffins after he wasn't fast enough to take his pick.

"Your demure fire I assume," Laura said quietly and avoided his eyes.

Perry nodded.

"I'd like to get to know her," the young woman said self-assured and met his gaze to emphasize her genuine interest.

"Maybe another time," Perry answered firmly, unsure what else to say.

"She's a very lucky woman, you know." Laura smiled sadly at him as she saw his emotions surfacing again the way they had last night, when she had pulled him into another hungry kiss, ignoring his moans and the sound of her name falling from his frenzied lips.

"I'm not sure she shares that sentiment right now," Perry answered matter-of-factly. "I've not really given her a lot of reasons to feel lucky lately."

Laura knew how he felt. "I'm pregnant, Perry," she suddenly exclaimed and stood in front of him with tears in her eyes.

Perry was irritated for a moment. "Does Max know?" He asked carefully.

Laura nodded. "I told him this morning."

"Are you still convinced you want to divorce him?" Perry didn't know why he asked, but those months of camaraderie with Laura had left their mark.

"I was hoping you could give me some advice," Laura almost begged him.

"After everything you've told me about him I think he honestly loves you," Perry said truthfully.

"Is that enough?" Laura asked, searching his eyes for an answer he didn't know.

"How did he react?" Perry Mason queried.

"Appalled after I told him about our nightly endeavor," Laura admitted. "But he was thrilled about the baby."

Perry was confused but decided to accept it for the time being. "What exactly did he say?"

"That he wants me to forget about the divorce. That he wants to have a family with me," Laura answered quietly.

"And you love him," Perry needed her to confirm his assumption.

"You know how hard it was for me to file for divorce in the first place." Laura nodded.

"So you want to divorce him over a conflict of opinion," Perry ascertained.

"If that's what you call a career," Laura was cross with him," then yes."

"I don't believe in rash decisions, in business or in marriage," Perry stated matter-of-factly.

"Is that why you ran away from your wife?" Laura asked calmly but with a clear hint of challenge in her voice.

"I'm not married," Perry said clearly but sadly.

Laura glared at him. "Do you want to know why I left that night?" She asked and put her hand on Perry's chest, smiling ruefully. "You called me Della," she said softly. "Said you were sorry, said you loved me so much." Laura looked deep into his eyes. "It sounded as if you were paying your dues to her. That's how I felt when I told Max about my pregnancy. So don't tell me she's anything less."

Perry stared at Laura for being so presumptuous about his relationship with Della, a woman she had never met. The woman he had betrayed on all levels in recent months.

"So you did not cheat on your husband?" Perry was relieved.

"And you didn't cheat on the woman I envy so much," Laura nodded. "I hope you didn't admit to a sin you haven't even committed?"

"I will set that straight as soon as she arrives," Perry assured her.

"So you are trying to win her back and what do you have in mind for me?" Laura asked although she already knew his answer.

"You'll return to your husband and keep in touch with me," Perry said and placed a friendly kiss onto her head. "I have no idea how you've managed it but you've become a friend I would hate to lose."

"You make it sound like good-bye," Laura looked at him with sad eyes.

"For now," Perry confirmed her impression. "I've cancelled my January commitments and will head back to L.A. in three weeks," he added hopefully. "If she takes me back."

"That would leave us with three weeks of facing D.C. together," Laura returned tenderly.

"I want to ask Della to stay," Perry answered honestly.

Laura closed her eyes to the goosebumps the sound of that name sent over her body. The way he pronounced was filled with so much emotions, it jolted her heart, also because he now trusted her enough to mention the woman he loved so much.

"You do know that I've fallen for you, Perry Mason, don't you?" Laura said with a sad smile.

Perry nodded and placed a tender kiss on her forehead to confirm he had figured as much.

"I really want to meet her one day," Laura Parrish unwillingly detached herself from Perry and tried to chase away the ambiguity of feelings that nestled in her since her friendship with Perry had begun to flourish.

"One day you will," Perry agreed and walked her to the door.

When Laura slid through the half open door, he watched her leave with a mixture of relief and strain sitting on his chest. He had come to care for Laura Parrish very much and was sad to see her go, but his nervousness about Della's arrival outweighed those feelings by far.

* * *

><p>When Della Street arrived at Perry Mason's university office, suitcase in hand, beauty case and purse, his local assistant looked at her from head to toe. Mr. Mason's head of office was tall, slim on the curvy side and sharply-dressed, the young assistant deemed, although her coat was a little too light for the season and her hemline was bordering an outgoing conservative style. Her hair was puffed up, makeup impeccable, her eyes as dark as her eyebrows, sparkling in the office light.<p>

"Hello, dear," Della said sweetly, detecting puzzlement in the young law student's eyes.

"May I help you?" Gillian Hanson met the lady visitor's respectful greeting.

"I'm sure you can," Della answered and moved her eyes over the young woman's desk without even giving it away. "I'm Della Street. I'm here to see Mr. Mason."

Gillian nodded discomposed and flipped through her calendar. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Mr. Mason asked to see me," Della offered warmly, trying to calm the young woman's nerves.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Gillian answered, still processing the appearance of her boss' Los Angeles secretary. "Mr. Mason has a habit of keeping me out of his scheduling."

Della smiled and understood. "Is he in?" She asked politely, feeling her feet burning in her heels now that they slowly warmed up from the cold outside.

"He's in class right now," Gillian answered and pointed to the open door that led to Perry's office. "But I'm sure he won't mind if you wait for him inside."

"Thank you, dear," Della gave back and entered the room behind her. She placed her luggage on the small couch in his overstuffed office and looked around. The air was dry and stifling. His desk looked unorganized, almost messy. Books were lying all around, coffee stains marked some of his papers, his pencils were timeworn and reduced to stubs. The window was small, his lamp hardly shining enough light to read properly. His phone was buried somewhere between files and books, his paper basket was flowing over, showing traces of fast food lunches and sugared coffee.

Della felt uncomfortable. The furniture, used and old, perfectly serving an academic cliche was not Perry's style at all. The view, although breathtaking, was sadly lost behind an armada of law books and stacking trays. When she reached for the window to breathe some fresh air, she found it stuck from the inside. So she turned and scanned the two shelves leaning against the opposite wall stuffed with a mountain of books, threatening the wood to burst. When she walked around the desk, Della scanned the piles of notes that were stacked on the table. Papers. Lecture. Civil rights. Los Angeles. Carefully divided categories surrounded by chaos. Della smiled until her eyes glimpsed a woman's handwriting sticking out from the civil rights stack: _Call me. You know where. Laura._

Della gasped but couldn't analyze the note any further, his voice interrupted her, coy somehow and growling deep from exhaustion. "Della!"

She felt how he approached her fast, then stopped, unsure what to do. Della looked up at him, somehow protected by his desk, then walked around it and looked at him. His face was unmoved, his eyes were not. His pair of blue were dancing with emotion, almost bubbling over, his mouth moved but there was no word, only the sound of a relieved sigh when she finally closed the gap between them and searched his embrace. His arms were slow when they moved around her. The environment didn't please his mood.

"Let's get out of here," Perry whispered in a husky voice and almost smiled when she agreed with him all too fast.

On their way to the car, they didn't speak. Perry had taken her suitcase and put his winter coat around Della's shoulders to keep her warm. She was shivering, but not from the cold. She was shaking through and through, unsure where they were going, what he had to say. A little afraid that in spite of her faith in them, Perry would turn this into a bitter farewell.

When they reached his home and Perry unlocked the door, Della was relieved to find his apartment comfortable and neat. A file was lying on the coffee table, his notebook. His usual suspects. But the apartment in no way resembled his current office which had made her so ill at ease.

"Are you hungry?" Perry asked as he took her beauty case and carried it to his bedroom along with her suitcase.

"Not really," Della shook her head and hesitated for a second, wanted to protest, but Perry interrupted her without being aware that she was looking for words to address their awkward situation.

"I'll sleep on the couch while you're here," Perry shouted softly from the bedroom and returned with a pillow and a blanket tucked under his arm. "I figured you may feel more comfortable getting your own room."

Della nodded reluctantly. "I have a reservation at the..."

"You really don't have to stay in a hotel," Perry offered with a tender smile. "I don't want you to," he added to emphasize how happy he was to see her.

Della looked at him, watched how he dropped his sheets on the couch, and stood somewhat impatient. "What am I doing here, Perry?" She suddenly asked, startling herself.

"I have missed you," Perry offered sheepishly.

"And you couldn't have come back to L.A. to tell me that?" Della asked quietly, not really sure how to handle the situation.

"You deserve the truth," Perry said calmly and invited her to sit with him on the couch.

Della didn't like the implications of that. "The truth about what?" Her voice sounded distant when she asked him, her hands were sweaty, cold. She wasn't sure if she was ready to hear what he had to say.

"I kissed another woman," Perry announced as gently as he could.

Della didn't know what hurt more, the words that had slowly escaped his mouth or the sharp intake of breath that came along with it. Deep down she had known that this was what he wanted to share with her. That he would present her with a truth he could voice after still being at odds with his rash decision of leaving Los Angeles, and along with it, her.

"When?" Della managed to whisper as tears threatened to build up in her eyes.

"Last night," Perry answered calmly, fighting with himself. He so desperately wanted to hold her now but knew she wouldn't let him.

"It's been almost four months, Perry," Della stated calmly, anger slowly blending with tears. "Four months and not a word from you. Only a message through your local secretary. Nothing personal. You moved on and left me behind in charge of your office. Escaped me like you tried to escape that bullet that has done away with your dignity."

The words erupted deeply from within Della's soul. She had bottled up her frustration for so long, she couldn't fight releasing it now.

"Is that how you cope? By looking for admiration from an adoring pair of young lips to stroke your battered ego? Can you really not forgive me for making you vulnerable enough to lose your way?"

Perry held her gaze. He had rarely heard her angry like that, her voice, though calm, was doubling over with emotions, her face blushed and wet from stubborn tears. The fact that she didn't bite down her feelings humbled him tough. A lot of what he felt seemed ambiguous these days.

"I've never blamed you for my accident," Perry said quietly while Della was looking for words to ask all the questions that had twisted her mind since he had left.

"Will you stop calling it an accident, for crying out loud!" Della said angrily, seeing from the corner of her eyes how his hands twitched in her direction, longing to comfort her. She didn't say it, but her body language was clear enough. He better not touch her. Not now. "You got shot because Patrick Kelley wanted to shoot you. He is a mad man, he was convicted. And yes, he played you, pushed all those little buttons until he found the one that lured you into his trap." She paused. "That doesn't give you the right to kiss another woman."

"We had too much wine," Perry tried to explain. "I missed you."

"So what's your mistake in it? If it was the wine and I wasn't able to read your mind." Della looked at him. The tenderness in her eyes surprised them both. "I don't know you anymore, Perry," she said honestly. "I've given up on understanding you since you tried to chase me away from your hospital bed. Since you refused to make love to me although I needed you so much. Since you chose to struggle with that bullet all by yourself, never even considering that your trauma is not yours alone, but that it also affects me," she suddenly leaned in to him and sought his arms. "Do you know how scared I was for you? How much it hurt to see you suffering without you letting me in? How afraid I was to lose you?"

"I want to come home, Della," Perry said, his emotions fully surfaced now. He didn't know what else to say and simply held her close, allowing his fingers to run over her body in a soothing caress.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to say that?" She closed her eyes and nestled her head against his chest. "I may be adapting to your self-destructive behavior, but please, Perry, don't make me sleep alone tonight. I've not come here to fight."

Perry nodded, surprised at her loving kindness, her warmth. "How can you forgive me so easily?" He felt her crying silently against him, releasing her hurt as well as her relief to be close to him again.

"Oh, I haven't forgiven you," Della answered matter-of-factly. "I've just been mad for four months and I'm exhausted."

Perry buried his face in her curls. "I'm sorry for being such a pain," he suddenly whispered onto her head.

Della placed a soft kiss on his chest and sighed deeply. "And to the dismay of my father I love you anyway."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Transitional chapters are an ordeal, I know. Sorry for that. Happy Della & Perry to come back SOON! Promised. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven**

It felt good to sleep by his side again. His scent fresh and strong, more than a haunting memory slowly fading away on the fabric of his sheets. The sound of his breath so familiar to her ears, heaving his chest against her back as he held her in his sleep. His face buried in the mess of curls on her head, his hand nestling on his favorite spot on her belly. Everything so back to normal yet Della couldn't sleep. She glared at the wall, the alarm clock, his bedroom in the dark, searching for something she wouldn't find. An answer to their situation, her feelings, his inability to voice his pain. Della knew it wasn't over even though he was now ready to share his life with her again. She noticed how his embrace was tighter than it used to be, frantic even when he moved in his sleep, obviously trying to fight off a bad dream. His broad shoulders pressed against her, his stomach a little softer, fuller than before, meeting her backside. He made her feel protected in his arms, but then there was that touch of something Della couldn't quite place. A distance that hurt more than his silence had since his departure. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to seek his closeness right away, to skip that step of getting reacquainted. Their conversation had been off balance enough to be a sign, but then again, she couldn't have endured to sleep alone. After all, she hadn't come out to D.C. to fight.

Della closed her eyes and swallowed a frown. All those lonely nights, the uncertainty, that craving for his touch – she remembered it all too well. No, she hadn't forgiven him. Her heart was still recovering while her body was yearning for reconciliation. Those goosebumps only he knew to send over her body by breathing so warmly onto her neck. The way his body hair tickled the softness of her skin. The contrast of his body complementing hers in the strangest of ways, maddening her to the brink of sensual frustration. She didn't want to be so needy after all those weeks of clinging to her faith in them. After all, she had only felt disconnected by the distance of his silence, never separated. She hadn't mourned him or their life together, had not felt like a woman who was going through the stages of divorce. She had missed him in his absence, had felt her love for him growing stronger. A feeling so unbearable, she had wished she could hate him for making her feel his pain.

Della sighed and moved her hand over his on her belly. The warmth of his skin made her feel complete again.

"What time is it?" Perry suddenly mumbled as he felt her caress, instinctively drawing her closer.

"Only 3am," Della whispered, opening her eyes again, fighting the sensation his half-naked body sent through her own.

Perry seemed to nod against her and placed a tired kiss onto her head, almost automatically, his body reacting to her being tucked away like this in his arms.

"Thank you, darling," he suddenly said under his breath, his eyes open now, studying her reaction without being able to see the agony washing over her face. "For coming to see me without hesitation."

Della shook her head to fight off her feelings from overwhelming her. "It's all right," she managed to whisper in an emotionally strained voice.

"For being patient with me," Perry continued when he felt her body tighten against his. He knew the sensation, remembered how she had tried to hide tears from him before. "I missed you so much."

Della sighed audibly, almost moaned, her voice so deep it sent shivers down his spine. She was trying to shake off his words, struggled with their situation, the ambiguity, the complexity of it all.

"I love you," Perry added quietly, slowly moving his hand over her belly in a tender caress. "You have no idea just how much, Della." The attorney fought with his own tears now but redirected his emotions into the touch of his hands on her skin, fondling her to emphasize the truth behind his words.

"I am lost without you," he murmured. "I had to learn that the hard way." He paused. Then continued, trying to voice what he had been brooding on for weeks. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I know I was a fool to push you away, but I'm not used to having someone to take care of me so thoroughly. Someone who loves me with such abandon."

Perry took in a deep breath and gently turned her around in his embrace. Then he locked his eyes with hers still glistening with emotions. "You are one of a kind, Della. I've always known that but wasn't aware just how deep that runs in you, your warmth, your devotion. It made my heart spin how your affection surpassed the trauma that bullet has caused us both. I couldn't catch up. And yet..."

The attorney moved one of his hands over her breasts up to her mouth to caress it with his fingers. Gently. His touch so light it made her guess if it was actually there.

"It made me long for something...," Perry's voice dropped so deep it vibrated against her skin as he leaned down to place a soft kiss onto her now sensitive lips. "Something I feel I've missed out on," he continued, now breathing his words into her as he parted her lips with his tongue and sought access to her mouth.

Della wiggled herself in position to welcome the full length of his body on top of her. Her tongue tasted his, embraced it and invited him to kiss her hard. Her hands slowly moved over his naked back, up and down. Her nails dug into him when she felt his body pressing down on her to arouse them both with a tenderness she had long missed. When Della broke free from his kiss to catch some air, Perry nuzzled her jaw line and her neck, triggering a moan deep down in her belly, moving up her throat, resembling a plea. Upon release, Della's eyes flickered, her lips trembled. She didn't know any words, was reduced to feeling what he did to her, overwhelmed by the overdose of his affection after all those weeks of abstinence. She wanted him in every pore and came undone, his passion flooding her. His lips, his hands, his skin. Her body so sensitive to his touch it made her quiver before he even made an effort to give her pleasure otherwise. When Perry lifted her nightgown over her head to fully merge his skin with hers, Della gasped. No, she hadn't forgiven him but he damn well knew how to get her to.

"I'm so sorry, my love," Perry kissed his apology down her spine and up her neck until he reached her ears. "Please forgive me." He moved his mouth south to spoil her breasts, then watched her face carried away by his words, his lips. Her expression contented, blissful as he sought permission to make love to her. One of her legs moved around his hip, groggily spurring him on.

"Don't stop," her voice beseeched him sultrily and groaned his name as he connected his body with hers, spending her, sewing her heart and fogging her mind until all she could do was whimper how much she loved him, too.

* * *

><p>It took them days to find their way back to each other outside of the bedroom, that comfort zone of sensuous pleasure, rekindling their love with all-consuming passion. He paid his dues by moving his lips over her to please without words. His fingers, his tongue, atoning for bruising her heart. Della leaned back, tipsy from climaxing on his repentance, unable to give while he reduced her to savoring what he so willingly spoiled her with. She surrendered to his touch, his expert knowledge of her favorite sins.<p>

When Perry headed out to teach, Della kissed him with lingering temptation, then slept, lazily wrapping her naked form in his sheets, wickedly awaiting his return, aching for more of his desire, his affection, his offer of amends. It took her a week to start teasing him again, about handling her with so much care, leaving no doubt that all she wanted for him was to be himself around her. With the words came her efficiency, a call to Gertie first then to Paul, handling office matters from afar. Perry was humbled by her attitude of moving on, of never guilt-tripping him after having been deprived of his love.

"I would love you to meet some of my students," Perry finally said when the end of his teaching experience was fast approaching.

"Gladly," Della replied with a warm smile. She had hoped he would invite her to sit in in one of his classes. And so she did the next day, decently covering her pride when he led his class through another lecture of basic law. It was Perry who had a hard time not to show his affection for her over lunch when she praised his teaching performance and teased him about the gruffness of his fatherly charm when he had talked to a group of young female students. Della slowly warmed up to his D.C. life, knowing that deep down he was craving to return to his West coast life.

It was a Friday night dinner, two weeks after Della's arrival in Washington, that broke the final ice. A post-Thanksgiving turkey feast, a bottle of champagne and crème brulée. Della playfully wailed about the overindulgence he showered her with, emphasizing her appreciation by giving him one of her most radiant smiles.

"You are spoiling me," Della said in a flirty voice, shooting him a smitten look. "I'm sure I've already put on five pounds."

Perry reached out his hand to rest on hers on the table and returned her smile with a sparkle in his eyes. "You've never looked more beautiful to me."

Della blushed and failed to cover it, an expression Perry often wished to freeze. "You're in quite a mood today, counselor," she said.

"You're bringing out the best in me," he gave back and slowly entangled her hand with his. "Do you care to dance?"

Della lowered her head an inch and blinked her eyes, taking in his compliment, then looked up at him again with a seductive gleam in her eyes. She nodded, floated out of her chair in that graceful way of hers and accepted his arm. When they reached the dance floor, Della instantly swayed to a song so familiar she didn't hesitate to hide away in her lover's arms.

"Like the song?" Perry asked after a while, fondling her waist discreetly with his thumb.

"U-hmmm," Della hummed, her eyes closed as he moved her closer against him, inviting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

Della gladly complied, not minding the public display of affection for once.

They danced like that through a couple of songs before Della tilted her head as a set of female eyes seemed to glared at them from one of the tables in the back. The woman smiled, sadly somehow yet approvingly as her eyes met Della's. Then she abruptly averted her gaze and paid full attention to her companion again. On any other occasion Della would have deemed that exchange of looks as odd, but that night brought something else to her attention instead. Something she had pushed to the back of her mind since Perry had voiced it.

"What did you mean when you said you feel you've missed out on something?" Della raised her head to look at Perry only to find him lost in the moment from head to toe.

"Hmm?" The lawyer asked without having heard her.

"What is it you miss?" Della asked gently and reluctantly stopped moving as she realized the music had stopped.

Perry looked down at her and leaned in dangerously close for a longing kiss.

"Perry," Della stopped him with a whisper, her hand tenderly squeezing his chest, trying to snap him out of his romantic habit.

"Can't blame me for trying," Perry quipped huskily and took her hand to lead her back to their table in that quiet corner of the restaurant he had requested.

Della smiled at him as he sat across from her, one of his hands immediately returning to hers on the table to caress it.

"It's that time of year. I feel nostalgic," Perry finally said, responding to her question on the dance floor. "Christmas is coming up. We're going to head back to Los Angeles soon. I don't want to share you again."

His secretary looked at him losing himself in her warm brown eyes. "You sound as if you're sorry to go," she stated calmly, admitting to herself that she did enjoy being away from the office for a while.

"I'm not really," Perry answered fast enough to convince her. "But I will miss this."

"You have _this_ all the time in L.A.," Della said quietly and entangled her fingers with his.

"In the privacy of our apartments, yes." Perry nodded.

"The last time we played husband and wife it was quite obvious that you crave your own space," Della returned with a mischievous smile, pushing away the dreadful memories of the aftermath of his injury.

"We didn't commit ourselves to the actual game," Perry Mason raised her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss onto her ring finger. "You slept in your own room most of the time. This is different."

Della Street slowly withdrew her hand from his lips, trying to restore a sense of public decorum in the sizzling atmosphere surrounding them. "Spending a vacation together is different from mastering an everyday routine," she offered, helplessly fighting against his unknown seduction technique.

"This isn't really a vacation, is it?" He simply gave back and teased her leg to lean against his.

"I'm not the marrying kind, Perry," Della finally spoke the words she feared to hear herself uttering.

"You feel you aren't for me," Perry simply answered and reconnected his fingers with hers again. "But I'm ready to commit now, Della."

The sincerity in his eyes melted her, but she was not prepared to give in to what still confused her as a request coming from him. "Is it because you feel you cheated death?" Della finally dared to ask in a soft voice. "That you feel that urge to change your life?"

"Maybe," Perry shrugged, unoffended by her remark. "But what's so bad about that?"

"I don't know." Della shrugged, unable to avoid his gaze. "What kind of change are we talking about?"

"I want you to be my wife, Della," he said in a voice so low and rich it made her tremble. "I want to have a home with you," he continued amorously. "A child."

Della gasped and felt tears dwelling up in her eyes as he continued. "I want to watch you doting on our daughter, our son. I want to put that smile on your face, create that bond nothing can ever break."

Della shook her head. She knew what he was talking about, the memory of her supposed pregnancy suddenly all too vivid in her mind. That longing to hold their child in her arms, preferably with his set of intense blue eyes. That feeling of wanting something she was brought up to enjoy, and did, as an aunt of her extended family's kids. But then there was something else, the ambiguity of the mere thought of settling down for him. Not with him, Della knew that wouldn't last. So she smiled at him, tormented in a way for her heart wished to indulge him but her head understood the complexity of that decision.

Then, after a moment of pondering silence Della moved her hand in his to create a tender connection with him that matched her gaze. Her voice was lower when she spoke again, husky, warm, a hint of sadness and regret not fully repressed. "I'm going to be forty-five soon," she said sadly. "No matter how much you may think you want this ideal family you've created in your head, I may just not be the woman to make that happen for you anymore."

Della lowered her gaze for a beat to flutter her eyes and keep her emotions at bay. Then she raised her head again to look into Perry's eyes as he answered her quietly. "You think this is a midlife crisis idea, don't you?"

"Well," his secretary admitted with a shrug. "On top of that bullet you are going to turn fifty soon. It has crossed my mind."

Perry laughed calmly. He understood. "You may be right, but all I want for us is to try," he finally whispered, his hands still lingering on hers. "Because regret is the worst feeling I know," he added gently. "And I would regret not having tried to have a baby with you."

Della couldn't avoid his eyes and didn't know what to say. "Can I think about it?"

Perry nodded. "Of course." Then he watched her drop her gaze, readdressing her attention to her previously abandoned dessert. He had to hand it to himself, he thought, overbearing her with such an amount of conflicting emotions. Perry Mason shook his head. Paul had been right after all, he sighed, he was a fool and lucky that this woman was too much in love with him to take flight.

* * *

><p>Upon arrival in Los Angeles, life was hectic the way it used to be. Della had warned Perry about the pile of requests waiting for him on his desk, although her expert sense of persuasion had put some of the less obtrusive clients off till after Christmas. Seeing Paul was a whole different complication. The private eye's disapproval of Perry's decision to run off to D.C. had been clear enough and rather chilly compared to Della's.<p>

"L.A.'s lost son has come home for Christmas," Paul said cheekily as he strolled into the office after passing Della's empty desk. "Rumor has it you're even here to stay. I'm touched you missed me so much."

"More than anything," Perry dove right into his friend's peace offering.

"I'm a little jealous that you used the only call they granted you in D.C. on Della though. But hey, I get it. She's a doll, looks great in skirts and is way more compliant than I am," Paul teased him. "No hard feelings."

"I hear you took good care of her while I was gone," Perry said thoughtfully and dropped the playful mood. "I want to thank you for that."

Paul nodded and dropped the full length of his body into a nearby chair. "Didn't leave me with much of a choice in the matter, did you?" He said, challenging the lawyer with an arched up eyebrow. "One of us had to pick up the pieces as they fell."

"You're going to give me a hard time over this, aren't you?" Perry leaned against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I have a feeling Della didn't," Paul shot his friend a look that showed both, sympathy and lack of understanding. "That woman simply loves you too much."

Perry nodded and dropped his arms to the side. "You are cross with her for forgiving me."

"I could never be cross with Della for anything," Paul admitted with a sigh. "Not even for loving you although we both know she deserves better." The detective waited for Perry Mason to raise his head and look at him again. His expression hurt until he saw Paul's boyish smile.

"I asked her to marry me," Perry answered his friend with a small smile of his own, still testing the grounds of their re-acquaintance.

"Again?" Paul chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "You are quite a piece of work, pal!First you push her away and then you want to tie the knot," Paul stated as he leaned forward to take a cookie from a plate only Della could have placed on the table to greet him. "What did she say?"

"Suppose she said yes," Perry offered, trying to make his case.

"We both know she didn't," Paul answered with a knowing but sad smile. "She has a big heart but she also got the brains. She would be a fool to marry you now."

"I asked her to start a family with me," Perry said calmly yet matter-of-fact. He wasn't seeking approval, he just felt like showing Paul that he had changed.

Paul Drake glared at him for a moment, his green eyes unable to mask his surprise. Then he took in a deep breath and spoke quietly, figuring he might as well get it off his chest right away. "I don't know if Della has told you yet, but there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Whom?" Perry met Paul's volume and sounded concerned.

"My wife," Paul Drake answered and shot Della a small smile as she exited the library with a pile of books in her arms, ready to resume their busy day. "And our son."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> _A shorter chapter this time despite the long waiting period, I know. Sorry! More to come soon. Follow-up chapter already in the making, and then the last two are actually already outlined. So please be a little patient, but I at least wanted to throw some reconciliation your way upon request. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

Della studied her reflection in the vintage mirror of her dressing table. The light was easy on the lines around her eyes, making that deep frown between her brows appear smoother in the semi-darkness of her bedroom, the melancholy barely visible on her lipstick-gilded mouth. Her face was more defined now and looked older than she often felt. Her hair was puffed up and curly, less teased than in the sixties but still voluminous. She strangely missed her neatly cropped curls from the fifties and her bangs. Back in the days when she didn't have to dye her hair to avoid the gray she disapproved of on herself but found so alluring on Perry's chest. She didn't really mind turning fifty-five, still felt sexy when she dressed for an evening date, Perry's eyes glued on her in any outfit. His hands still tender, inflaming her skin, eager to explore the extra pounds he never seemed to notice but rather enjoyed on her hips. His touch complimented her, made her feel loved when she was at odds with her changing body, couldn't believe how easily ten years had flown by.

* * *

><p><em>"Are you ready, baby?" Perry Mason's voice sounded through the bathroom door at the office. "I'm at a loss here."<em>

_ "Just c'mon in," she answered sweetly and eyed him tenderly as he stepped through the door. Della stood in front of the mirror and touched up her makeup and hair. Her black dress was simple, her heels two inches high. She matched the proper plainness of his own black suit and immediately brought her fingers up to fix his tie. _

_ "There you go, honey," she said, patted his chest and stole a tender kiss from him before she turned around in his embrace to readdress her attention to the mess of curls on her head._

_ Perry marveled at her beauty and nuzzled her neck causing Della to smile at him in the mirror and tilt her head to give him better access to her skin, never averting her eyes from her task at hand but allowing him to linger, his lips hungry for her in a way she still tried to get used to._

_ "Not here," the secretary in her answered softly. "Gertie will come get us any minute now."_

_Perry didn't care and nibbled her skin with full intention, leaving love bites all over. Della leaned in to him and pressed her back against his heaving chest. It was one of those days when all she wanted was to hide in his embrace, when she wished she could give into that fresh urge of his to make love to her wherever they went. In a way she liked him lewd like that, in the privacy of their bedrooms, for the moment of a stolen kiss on the office couch. His lack of boundaries distressed her though, his level of carelessness since they had returned from D.C. - it was all so out of character for him, especially regarding the circumstances of this day. _

_ "I'm sorry about the change of plans," Perry mumbled ruefully and raised his head to meet her gaze in the mirror with lustful eyes. "I really wanted to celebrate with you today."_

_ "It's not your fault," Della replied sadly. "It's power of coincidence that Arthur Tragg's funeral was scheduled for today."_

_ "It's our anniversary, darling," Perry Mason matched her regret but smiled. "I have a feeling the old rascal would've enjoyed busting our plans."_

_ "The Lieutenant was rather understanding of our relationship," Della replied and carefully wiggled herself free from his arms. _

_ "He was?" Perry cocked his eyebrows and watched how Della covered his telltale marks on her skin. "You mean he knew about the secret behind those scarfs of yours, hiding your skin from prying eyes?" He asked and smirked at her. _

_ "He was a friend like that." Della nodded and saw grief reflected in Perry's eyes, deeply buried in his heart. He couldn't hide it well from her, his reluctance to accept the unwanted change in their lives. His proposal still unanswered and dangling in the air, buried between files and paper work, Paul Drake's family and now a funeral._

* * *

><p>Della sighed as she remembered how that year had continued. 1967 had brought on a lot for them, good memories and bad. Perry's practice had been buzzing, leaving her breathless and exhausted most of the year. Her birthday had been one of the few exceptions – a trip up to Bear Valley with the Drake bunch of three, jolly and quiet until a phone call informed her of the sudden death of her father. Perry and Della had taken off immediately, to attend his funeral and sort things for Margarete Street. Perry had not protested when Della send him back to L.A. and asked him to stay another week, to spend some time alone with her widowed mother. He had had a feeling that guilt was preying on her mind for not having been there much in those busy times.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Don't blame yourself for not knowing, sweetheart," Margarete Street tried to calm her daughter on a quiet evening on the couch. "Your father asked me not to tell you. He didn't want you to worry about him after everything you have on your mind at the office."<em>

_ Della looked at her mother, well aware of her favorable yet chilled sentiments towards Perry since his timeout in D.C. _

_ "I know he disapproved of my situation with Perry," Della returned with a trembling voice, unable to hide her grief. "I just didn't think he wouldn't want to see me again." _

_ Margarete Street reached out for her and pulled Della onto her lap like she used to when she had been a child. "We've been there before, haven't we?" She said quietly and stroked her daughter's hair. "Your father loved you, honey, very much. He did not understand your choice to lead this life, but he respected it. And he respected Perry because you've given your heart to him. But your father was a proud man. He didn't want his daughter to see him in pain. He didn't want you to remember him as less than he was." Margarete Street softly wiped away the tears that fell freely from Della's eyes. _

_ They sat in silence for a while and Margarete Street watched her daughter cry the tears she didn't have in herself anymore after an exhausting couple of months of looking after her declining husband. So she stroked her daughter's hair and took a deep breath before she added. "All he ever wanted for you was to be happy, Della, no matter how much you think he disapproved."_

_Della closed her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of her mother's voice, her gentle words. She understood what she was trying to do but still felt guilty for not knowing._

_ "Perry asked me to start a family with him," she suddenly whispered, lifting a burden from her chest._

_ Margarete Street stopped caressing her head for an instant and then continued, slowly nodding her head. "And you're ready to indulge him," she said matter-of-factly._

_ "We've not exactly been blessed with a lot of good news lately," Della answered meekly. "First Perry's injury, a couple of catastrophes at the office and now dad..." She tried to catch a breath to continue but her mother interrupted her softly._

_ "You are already with family," Margarete Street sighed and inhaled deeply, then lowered her head. _

_ Della nodded and was overwhelmed by a new set of tears. "I think so," she gasped and tried to hold her emotions at bay. "Unless it's..."_

_ "You're not facing middle-aged malaise just yet, dear," her mother cut in sweetly. "The women in our family have never been blessed with an early retirement of nature."_

_ Della chuckled in-between persistent sobs and felt her mother drawing her closer. "Oh honey," Margarete Street started in a sorrowful voice, "you simply have to have it your way, don't you?" _

_ Della slowly pulled herself up and withdrew from her mother's arms to look at her with a warm yet bashful smile. "I can't seem to help it." _

_ "Well, you do have to get married now though." Margarete Street returned her daughter's gaze with stern eyes and continued a mite accusingly. "Not that this is how it should be."_

_ Della blushed and nodded her head. "I'm a disgrace to this family after all."_

"_I hear the times are changing," her mother replied unexpectedly. "In the big cities after all, and Los Angeles must be one of them." Then she took a deep breath and giggled. "The City of Angels, how ironic. Your father would've liked the humor in that."_

* * *

><p>Della closed her eyes for a moment at the memory of her mother. How much she'd cherished their week together, sharing their grief. Little had she known about the shortness of time she had left with her. Another funeral, one at least every year. The late 60s and early 70s really hadn't gone easy on her.<p>

Della looked at the lines on her face as she opened her pair of dark again. Each line had a story, was caused by a blow, carved in by pain, sometimes deepened in the trying process of learning to laugh again.

* * *

><p><em>"Marry me," Perry exclaimed and pulled her closer. "We have to get married, Della." He held her for a moment and studied her face. "A baby," he whispered lovingly and brought his hand up to her face to fondle it. <em>

_ "Not so fast, chief," Della pulled him into a lingering kiss, then rested her palm on his heaving chest._

_ "You can't possibly turn me down now, darling," Perry almost begged her._

"_I'm not," Della chuckled. "But we both know this week is a hassle, and I don't want to rush into my vows with you."_

_ Perry nodded and placed his hand onto her belly with so much care, Della almost burst into tears. "Can you lay low for another week or two, little baby girl, I need to clear my schedule a little to make your mother respectable." Then he got up on his feet again and beamed from ear to ear. _

_ "How do you know it's a girl?" Della asked, overwhelmed by the emotions he conveyed as he rested his eyes on her._

_ "Intuition," the lawyer returned with a smile that accentuated the dimple Della Street loved so much. Then he pulled her into another kiss and only broke it to answer the familiar knock on his backdoor. "I even have a hunch who that might be..."_

* * *

><p>Della chuckled sadly and moved her eyes away from her own reflection and onto his form folded on the bed behind her. Perry Mason lay in his usual crisscross when she wasn't sleeping by his side, filling their bed with expert precision, barely leaving room for her to seek his embrace.<p>

After all these years, Della knew what a messy sleeper her lover could be. But he always calmed down as soon as he felt her presence, moved aside when her skin brushed against his to find access to her side and protection in his arms, something she had come to rely on, little by little, in recent years.

When Della got up she stood to watch him sleep for a while. His arm was flung over his head, partly covering his face. His blanket revealed most of his masculine chest, bigger now than it used to be, padded in a way and deliciously topped with his whitish gray chest hair. The lines on his face matched hers. He looked gruff in his sleep at times, went over cases in his dreams, jumped up in the middle of the night. There were nights when her name fell from his lips, mumbled or shouted, often muffled by himself as he realized she was okay. Sometimes he rose, drained in perspiration, then took a shower and left her longing for his presence in her sheets. Then he woke her early in the mornings, his lips grazing her skin, merging her dreams with reality as she slowly came to her senses on being spoiled by him. It was a dance that left her satisfied yet helplessly consumed, a dangerous balancing act of emotions, a toxic mix of silence overcome by physical release. Their love for each other had turned unhealthy, was sucking the life away from them.

And Della knew when it all had started. She took full blame for the throbbing wound she had inflicted on both of them.

* * *

><p><em>Della held onto the rim of the sink as the pain overwhelmed her so vehemently she didn't even manage to scream. She tried to stop the fall, did her best to slow herself down and hoped that someone had heard her thudding on the ground. <em>

_ Della didn't know how much time had passed when Karen Drake splashed water on her face, her voice calm as she spoke her name yet bordering a shriek when she shouted for Paul to call an ambulance. She saw the blood on the floor and started to move, slowly at first, then panicking. Perry tried to soothe her as he held her in his arms, reassuring her that everything would be all right. Nothing would be, Della sensed the verdict as Paul tried to keep his son's party going smoothly outside. _

_ Della couldn't move, the pain pierced her gut so deeply, she almost fainted again. How she arrived at the hospital, she didn't know. Dr. Abbott was right by her side. Karen must've called her, Della mused, then searched the room for Perry as her panic kicked back in. He stood right next to her, broad shoulders, tall, towering over her doctor by at least seven inches. _

_ "I'm sorry, Perry," Doctor Abbott's voice reached her ears from the distance. Della lay in a bed, heavily sedated, her sight blurred from the medication they had given her to calm down and ease the pain. "There was nothing we could do."_

_ Della felt tears flooding her face, her own voice deep and low inside her head when the doctor's words were sinking in. She didn't know that she had it in her, a sound so earthy, so strong, so full of massive pain, almost primal, the depth of it scared her. How deeply it bruised her soul. _

_ "How?" Perry's voice sounded far away although he stood right next to her by her bed. His pain equaled hers, that much she could tell by the gruff control he mustered up to keep himself from falling apart. _

_ "It's hard to say," the woman doctor replied with deep sympathy. "Probably a combination of stress, age and unrest. Not all that unusual actually."_

_ Perry nodded and moved his head as he heard the first sound from Della, slowly bubbling up, her face a mask of raw despair. "Can we...?" He gulped. "Will she be able to...?"_

_ "Given the circumstances of her miscarriage I'd hate to give you false hope," Doctor Abbot tried to be tactful. "Maturity in both the mother and the father is not particularly adjuvant, especially if they are both engaged in rather busy lives." The lady doctor gave Perry an understanding smile. "I'm sorry, I know how elated Della has been about this baby." _

_ Perry glared at her, unable to process the truth behind her words. He simply sat on the rim of Della's bed and reached out his hand to hold hers and watched her tears running her empty._

_ When Della opened her mouth to speak after all, Doctor Abbott had long left. Perry had rested his head on her belly and sobbed against her, unable to keep up his composure, his usual vim. He buried himself in her and lived on the caress he felt she mustered up with shaky fingers. She stroked his hair and held him close, found strength in being there for him. Then she spoke with a voice unfamiliar to herself, so fierce in its dolor she felt the deep wound in her heart move to the tip of her tongue, supporting the irrevocable quality of what she had to say._

_ "I want you to call off the wedding," Della said demurely, not taking any protest from him. She didn't want to be a burden to him with her grief and her allegations towards herself. So she did what she had scolded Perry for only a year ago and fought her own demons without letting him in. _

* * *

><p>Della sat on the edge of their bed and willed away the feeling of misery that crept into her heart, a wicked reminder of the one chance they'd really had at domestic happiness. She hadn't been able cope with being one of those childless wives who filled their lives with charities and gardening. And Perry had been too worn out to argue with her about her reason, or what she hoped, had known her well enough to understand she hadn't rejected him but had shut the door to something she had always longed to have, deep down, buried in her heart until he had been ready to face the challenge of changing his life for the woman he loved.<p>

He had not asked her to marry him since. The topic seemed off limits somehow, too hurtful for them both deep within. First their baby, then Hamilton Burger's sudden death a short time later. Paul Drake and his family, his lovely wife and fast growing son, had been their rock in hard times. Della's especially for she took her duties as Paul Jr.'s god-mom very seriously. She had babysat him whenever she could, still called it that now that he was already pushing sixteen, and doted on him on every possible occasion.

She knew that Perry had loved observing her with Paul's little boy right after she had left the hospital, their minds preoccupied with that hole in their hearts, that piercing pain of mourning someone who had not even seen the light of day. Gushing over Paul Jr. had been her remedy as much as work had always been Perry's, particularly after Paul Drake's untimely death a little less than four years ago. Della remembered his funeral, soon after her mother had died, leaving her orphaned and grieving on all levels of her life. Always jumping right into action, Della had pushed away her own misery and helped Paul Jr. and his mother as much as humanly possible. Perry had marveled at her strength back then and told her so the night she had asked him to pick her up from the side of Sunset, on her way from the Drake family house in North Hollywood. She had stopped her car, the events of five short years sinking in on her - she had been unable to control her tears. Perry had carried her home that day from the car, into the little house they had bought in Santa Monica. It had been a reminder of happier days, of hopes and dreams of a Mason family. It had been the only night Della ever made love to her lover in a frantic rhythm, overbearing him with her insatiable need for physical compassion. She had literally floored him to cure her pain, had given him the last bit of energy she had stored up inside of her. She had wept dry tears afterwards, unable to stop. Perry had cradled her in his arms like a baby, helpless and sick with concern. He had always wondered what would make her crumble, and once she finally had, he did not have the words to soothe her for her had felt the same.

Now Della studied his face as he was lying on their bed and craved for his touch. He looked so peaceful for a moment, a charming little smile curled up on his tasty lips. Then a frown, his face darkened again and she knew: what she needed to say to him would only top off a very unpleasant decade. So Della glared at him from the foot of their bed and smiled as he slowly opened his eyes.

"What are you doing up?" Perry mumbled from between the sheets and looked up at her, meeting her gaze, inviting her to join him.

"Chasing ghosts from the past," she said quietly as she seductively stepped out of her bathrobe, taking her time.

Perry gave her one of those looks she lived on these days. The intensity of his fat blue eyes shot through her in a warm glow, leaving her hungry and aroused. "Is your birthday bothering you that much?" He asked and reached his hand out to grab hers. Then he gently pulled her towards him, completely aware of the exquisite quality of her little nightgown embellishing her curves.

"I couldn't care less about my birthday," Della purred into his ear as she pushed him back into his pillow and rested her body on top of his. She pressed her palms tenderly onto his chest and explored the topography of his massive torso. Then she leaned down to pull him into a lingering kiss, hungry at first but softening. She wanted to take her time seducing him, creating memories that would last. After all, this was her goodbye to him.

Perry looked at the rage of emotions flushing her face. Her eyes, rarely avoiding him, seemed to pin him down on his back. Her mouth was demanding, nibbling at his skin like a starving lioness. Her thighs kept him in place, bringing him to the brink of frustration when she teased his pelvis with her own. Her fingers drew ticklish circles on his jaw, his neck down to his chest, combing his chest hair and pinching his nipples so carefully he wished to take charge of her instead. But Della begged him to lean back and enjoy, gave him that smile, demure and raw, so full of sin and innocence it made him groan.

When she rocked him, still in command, he watched her body blush all over. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hips to give him delight, her face glistened, she was so beautiful. Her voice vibrated from the depth of her core, the sound of his name on her lips like a melody, a tender caress. When she collapsed on top of him, he held her close, gladly savoring the moment, every second of being one with her.

She surrendered herself to a blissful slumber moments later, now safely tucked away in his arms. Perry watched her sleep and wondered about that sparkle of sorrow mingling with satisfaction on her face. How it was related to their recent problems and his indecisiveness to take on justiceship.

When she woke, hours later, Perry felt her stir against him in the process and loosened his embrace enough to give her space. Then he placed a soft kiss onto her head and tenderly caressed her face.

"Happy birthday, darling," he whispered as she opened her eyes.

Della looked at him for a long time and gave him half of a smile. When she finally spoke, her voice was brittle and hoarse, matching the saddened expression on her face.

"It's not going to be a happy one, Perry," she started and tried to hide away in his arms.

"What are you talking about, Del?" Perry Mason asked tenderly, caught somewhere between arousal and confusion at the way she wiggled her naked flesh against his.

Della sighed and tried to find her voice, the worry line between her brows as deep as a furrow. "I'm not going to follow you to San Francisco, honey." She heard herself say the words she had dreaded so much.

Perry propped himself up and looked at her, her words sinking in with abrupt pain. "What?"

"I know it's what you want and I think it's what you should so," Della tried to reason with herself. "But my place is here in L.A., Perry. I've struck roots here. I don't want to lose this, our house, those memories, good and bad."

"So many bad memories," Perry interrupted her in a whisper.

"And so many good ones, baby," Della continued and brought her hand up to caress his chest. "Please don't ask me to leave it all behind, the little family we have left."

Perry looked at her. He understood she had not come to this decision lightly, he had asked her weeks ago and promised to give her time to debate the facts. He had never expected her to say no however, not even once considered that there was more for her to consider but only his needs.

"Perry, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you," Della lowered her gaze to hide the difficulties she was having conveying her ambivalence. "Don't let me slow you down."

"You have never slowed me down, Della," Perry gave back, detecting a glimpse of hope in her evasiveness.

"You never let me," she replied matter-of-factly, "and this is not where you should start."

"I love you, Della," Perry started but was stopped by the gentle touch of her finger on his mouth.

"And I love you Perry," she answered with a breaking voice. "Don't you ever forget that."

Perry Mason watched her getting up and away from him in a hurry, almost as if she was taking flight. He had seen her tears dwelling up in her beautiful eyes, but he had been unable to respond to her words. He had hoped to address the issue himself today, over dinner, with a selection of real estate he had pre-selected for her to choose from. He had plotted it all, right down to timing their departure on his own birthday a little more than a month away. He had included every eventuality except Della's rejection.

The past ten years had been rocky, he was the first one to admit. The loss of so many of their dearest friends, then Della's immediate family – he knew it had been hardest on her, especially the loss of their precious unborn baby. Perry gulped, the mere memory of her face when he pain had started, when she had seemed to know what was inevitable. He had gathered her in his arms at one of Paul's private garden parties, suppressed a simmering panic as the color had completely drained from her face. He had stood helplessly as the paramedics rushed her off to the hospital, allowing him, as her fiance, to sit with her upon gruff insistence. He remembered how the pain had wrenched his heart, how Della's silence had smushed him, her composure, topped by that cry of black despair without making the slightest sound. She had gone through the motions afterwards, had found her footing in helping first the Tragg family, then Burger's and finally Paul's. She had never fully overcome any of these strokes of fate though, that was how Perry felt. She was so close to Paul Jr. now and his mother, had been a gushing god-mom from the start. It had hurt Perry to see her so at ease with him, so motherly in love. It had hurt more than her plea to postpone their wedding, something he had not known how to bring up again, always afraid to stir up her grief and thus his own. He had however hoped to start anew but now she had told him that she wouldn't go, would not indulge him once again, had proven to be her very own woman. He couldn't blame her, she had never made a secret of her independence, despite her many ways of pleasing him. But this was different, he had underestimated the weight of his craving for justiceship, a new beginning in his life, moving on. After burying so many of her dreams, Della did not seem to have it in her to set up camp with him in another town. Perry closed his eyes – he should have known, should have anticipated that her ties of friendship and family would hold her back and ask her to choose the impossible.

Perry sighed and got up from the bed, circling it to reach the bathroom with a knock, then waited for a beat and entered it. Della sat on the rim of the bathtub, wrapped in a towel, her eyes red from crying. Perry knelt down to her and pulled her towards him, ending up on the floor but not really minding for all he wanted was to hold her.

"I'm sorry for ruining your birthday, baby," Perry said soothingly, placing soft kisses on the top of her head while he felt her shaking against him.

Della shook her head. She really didn't care about her birthday much, had not done so since she had turned thirty-nine. Had been too busy, too unaware of the gravity of age. All that had ever mattered was to be with Perry, birthday or not. That he was happy, even if that now excluded her.

"Promise me that you'll go," Della said as her tears finally dried. "Please. I don't want to see you not living up to your dream."

"It's not a dream if you're not around to live it with me," Perry answered truthfully.

"You can always come home when you get lonely," Della moved her arms around him as much as she could. "I'm not going anywhere."

"It's not going to be the same," he stroked her gently and buried his hands in her damp hair.

"It's going to take some getting used to," Della agreed and slowly found her poise again."But I hear long-distance has its benefits."

"I want to see you every weekend," Perry smiled through a tender kiss.

"We'll see about that," Della whispered into him then sat in silence for a while, trying to soak up as much of his caress for a lifetime.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Please excuse the _massive_ delay! I'll try to post the remaining chapters SOON!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine**

He missed having her around, at the office, in his bed. Long-distance phone calls and carnal encounters every other weekend clearly didn't do enough for him to be a worthy substitute. But the first four years rushed by faster than he thought. Back in L.A., Della had easily landed a personal assistant's position with Arthur Gordon, absorbing her to Perry's dismay. He scolded himself for the immaculate references he had given her, after all, if he was honest, he had secretly hoped she would loathe her new job soon enough and come crawling to be with him, finally beg him to marry her, to let him spoil and display her like a precious doll in a showcase – at least in the dark corners of his lonely fantasy.

He often wondered if she could tell how much it bothered him to know that she now worked her tricks for another man, intimacies excluded but maddening nonetheless. Although he trusted Della without exception, jealousy was brooding in his gut at the mere thought of losing her to a man whose life she was now easing with intuition and her organizational skills.

It was the loneliness that wore him down ever so slowly. The time deficit, reducing them to exchanges of lewdness on the phone, the draining effect of her voice bringing him to climax. Not having her to make love to, the softness of her skin, a mere luscious memory, stirred up frustration met by the lack of adventure in his job. It wasn't the same, no matter where he looked, San Francisco wasn't Los Angeles. Della's voice and scent alone didn't satisfy his needs and the law was simply dreadful without the thrill of a verbal battle in the courtroom. But proud and stubborn as he was, Perry didn't cave in, didn't know how to change what he had started without admitting to the miscalculation of his own dependencies. So he kept busy, went high on coffee and sought pleasure in delicious food, padding his chest and soothing his soul.

"I've missed you," Perry groaned as he pushed her against the inside of his apartment door to close it with a bang. A familiar start into one of their few weekends. "I've missed you so much."

His hands traveled all over her in mad desire, frantically looking for the zipper to release her from as skirt that left so little to his imagination.

"Perry...," Della moaned but seemed reluctant to assist him in devouring her. Her hands were trapped between his body and hers, her core more responsive than her lips. It almost felt as if she was avoiding him. "Perry, please," Della tried to get his attention and pressed her head against the door frame. "Not here."

Perry kept nibbling her neck but nodded against her blushing skin. "All right," he managed to say under his breath and almost dragged her into the bedroom.

He was fast these days, undressing her, pressing his skin on hers to arouse her with his need. He barely took the time to undress himself, unwilling to restrain from overbearing her. He rocked her hard, didn't waste his time, wolfed her down – her kiss, her scent - covered her body with hasty love bites and tiny bruises, left her aching under his rush. Sometimes he hurt her without intention, too absorbed in ravening her to stop. His climax violent and voracious, leaving him panting until he finally collapsed. His weight almost crushed her, making it hard for her to breathe.

When he finally rolled off her, leaving her frustrated for her own release, Perry glared at the ceiling, slowly catching his breath. He had a hard time controlling his appetite for her these days, was unable to satisfy her needs before his own. He felt guilty for being so starved, hated to neglect her happiness, but those lengthy weeks of austereness parched the last drop of chivalry in him.

Della often lay in silence after his invasion, covered her trembling body with a blanket, turned away or closed her eyes to shed a tear. It took him moments to recover until he finally gathered her in his arms, drifting off to sleep or passing on what pleasure she had given him.

That day, four years into their growing separation, Della simply lay bare, expended and weary. "Arthur promoted me last week," she suddenly said in a voice that sounded almost shy.

"That's nice, darling," Perry managed to mumble, his voice still bordering a moan, his body sensitized to her long missed presence and the warmth she had just provided him.

"To executive assistant," Della continued humbly, unwilling to show the smile that threatened to wash over her lips. "New office included and a raise."

Perry rolled on his side to watch her naked form beside him. Was it possible that she had become more beautiful? He brought his hands onto her thighs, his fingertips tickled her delightfully, dipping into her bellybutton, then moved up to cup her breasts.

"Have I ever told you how scrumptious you are?" Perry answered dreamily without really knowing what she had actually said. Her nude body, those beautiful wide eyes ate away all of his attention.

"Is sex all you care about these days?" Della asked in a calm voice masking disapproval. She was so tired of coming up for a weekend only to be bestridden in bed.

"I've not seen you in six weeks, baby," Perry groaned as he brought his lips onto her skin to make her blush with desire. "What do you expect?"

Della closed her eyes with a saddened frown, then caressed his head to gently stop him from spoiling her belly with hungry kisses. "Please stop," she whispered as he continued to taste her, then struggled to read her signs. "Perry, please," she almost begged him now.

Perry Mason propped himself up on his arms and stared at her with esurient eyes. "What's wrong, darling?" He asked and watched how she wiggled away from him to cover her naked flesh from his devouring glare.

"I can't do this anymore," Della answered honestly, unable to meet his gaze. She got up, then stood trembling in front of his bed, suddenly hit by the cold after depriving herself from his touch.

"Do what?" Perry was confused for a beat, then saw her hand clearly holding him at bay as he tried to reach out to soothe her with the warmth of his adoring hands.

"I'm not your mistress, Perry," Della said emphatically, her voice so quiet it barely left her throat. "And I won't let you treat me as if I were."

Her words hit him unexpected, hard. He searched her eyes to see she meant what she had said but didn't want to hurt him. "Della," he started lovingly.

But Della shook her head and stopped him with her hand once more. "I've allowed you to have your way with me, to reduce us to physical pleasures long enough." She paused, then went on. "Four years, Perry, it's been four years of you not coming home. Of us not talking about what's going on in our lives."

Perry glared at the sincerity he found reflected in her eyes, the feeling of rejection he seemed to have inflicted on her without intention.

"Be honest with me. Do you still love me?" Della suddenly asked, her words hitting his heart like bullets.

"What?" He seemed unable to breathe for a moment, then saw how deep these new insecurities ran in her. "Della, honey, where is that coming from?"

"You haven't answered my question," Della gave back in a teary voice. "Do you love me?" she asked and pointed to her nudity. "Or is _this_ all you care about?"

Perry glared at her and shook his head, half to himself and then to her. "I love you so much, darling," he started and crawled towards her. He wanted to hold her so bad.

"Then please don't ask me to come see you like this," she said under her breath, rocked by silent tears, then finally welcomed his embrace again.

Perry reached out for her and pulled her towards him, then held her, bruised by her pain and the craving to sate her with his irrepressible desire.

It was the first weekend Della cancelled on him that was the loneliest. The forth one almost routine. Slowly, he learned to pick up the slightest uneasiness in her voice, knew when she was too exhausted or too uncomfortable to come see him. Her new position ate away the limited time she once used to have or had made for him. His continued hunger for her touch further complicating her absence. His yearning for her so intense that he knew it was better if she stayed away or he would infringe her plea, possibly defile her and never let her go again.

So they stayed apart for weeks and months, had few intermissions, vacation time and holidays. Della brought Paul Jr. every now and then, still doting on him like his mother, loving everything he did. When Della left, Perry stayed behind with an intolerable urge for release and a feeling of solitude that started to tempt him to go astray and seek his pleasure elsewhere. But then he knew that what she gave him no one else could possibly provide. It was so much more than concupiscence, the pleasure her body gave him and her kiss. It was something no money in the world could buy and no affair inflame in him. What he was looking for he had left behind, and no matter how badly he tried to live on his justiceship, he never enjoyed his career as much as he always had with her, back in the days, back in Los Angeles.

"I can't believe you're not going to support his case," Della glared at him in disbelief during one of their rare Bear Valley weekends, alone in his cabin, phone unplugged and mail diverted. "Can't you at least pull some strings?"

"That's what I'm doing, Della," Perry Mason barked back at her, angry to be turned into the bad guy. "But as an appellate court judge, there's only so much I can do."

"It was an accident, Perry," Della pleaded with him as she wrapped his heavy bathrobe closer around her shivering body. "The boy is deeply shaken by what's happened to that girl."

"You always find an excuse for Paul's mistakes," Perry said, unwilling to hide his annoyance and hurried into the kitchen to grab a snack to kill the dissatisfaction of a fight with the woman he loved. "I wonder if you'll ever stop mothering him."

Della Street inhaled sharply but didn't speak. If he could have seen her lips, he would have seen a familiar spectacle of a comment dying on her lips, swallowed down by her better judgement, her crumbling trust in him.

"If you would just put in a good word for him," she finally said in her controlled voice as she followed him into the kitchen, best evidence for him to know he had hurt her with an imprudent remark again. "If not for him, then at least for his father."

Perry noticed how she didn't pull a "for me" to convince him of her cause. She rarely did, but this was one of those cases when he would have expected it, without a blame. They both knew very well that for Paul Senior, Perry would have jumped into action immediately. Not so easily for his son.

"Paul is not our son, Della," Perry finally answered in a quietly angry voice.

"But he's the closest thing we've got," Della admitted, equaling her volume to his, hurting him with her demure acceptance regarding the hushed up loss of their child.

Holding him at bay emotionally, an argument that never lived enough to break free - that's how it had started then, his sleeping disorder, always worse when she had just been up to see him, never alone after six years, always bringing Paul Jr., his mother Karen or Gertie, an almost desperate attempt of avoiding intimacy with him. Perry missed the spontaneity of their irregular weekends, when he had ravished her with his desire, feeling lewd and thirsty for her love.

"I need to see you, darling," Perry flirted with her as soon as he picked up the phone one late afternoon, leaned back into his cushions and closed his eyes to picture her right next to him."I miss you." He was ready to liven this phone call up. That was his remedy these days.

"You do?" her voice sounded surprised, then chuckled. "I didn't even know you expected my call."

"Laura," Perry Mason gasped, then laughed himself. "What a lovely surprise."

"Oh, now I'm disappointed, Your Honor," Laura Parrish teased him the way she always did. "Your welcome brought me right back to D.C."

"Still cherishing the memories?" Perry asked and wondered why this woman was so irresistible to him in spite of everything.

"Every day," she almost purred, then smiled audibly. "I really miss you."

"Why don't you come up to San Francisco?" Perry Mason gave back immediately. It had been such a long time since he'd last seen the Parrish family and the absence of Della's affection didn't really help him getting through his days.

"That's exactly why I'm calling," Laura beamed. "Max is going to have a business meeting on Friday and I've debated joining him with Kaitlynn."

"How is my little doll?" Perry queried, his voice betraying the deep love he felt for the little girl.

"She always asks about her uncle Perry," Laura admitted cheerfully. "Always gushing about the necklace you sent for her birthday."

"I can't believe she's already seventeen," Perry said with a touch of melancholy in his voice as he pushed away the grief about the loss of his own unborn daughter.

"I know," Laura agreed. "Time flies." Then she paused and went on thoughtfully. "But how about you? How are you holding up?" Her voice was tenderly concerned.

"I'm doing fine," Perry reassured her by lying to himself. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know," Laura shrugged. "_Darling, I miss you_ sounded so desperate."

"I'm not desperate," Perry Mason denied the correctness of her words.

"Are you sure?" Laura Parrish asked but understood his hesitation. "I don't recall you coping very well with withdrawal from that demure fire of yours."

"So you still refuse to refer to Della by name," Perry observed suspiciously.

"I told you I would until you finally introduce her to me," Laura answered honestly. "Not that I mind, but I'm beginning to feel like "the other woman"," she added mischievously. "Without the usual benefits of a tingling affair."

"And you wonder why I don't want Della to get the wrong impression about you?" Mason shook his head with a laugh.

"Oh, relax, Your Honor," Laura Parrish gave back good-humoredly. "I've learned to behave around you. I know your heart belongs to her." She paused and remembered that night about eleven years ago when she had seen Perry dance with the woman he loved so much. He had been oblivious to her presence and Max', completely absorbed by his companion, unable to hide the depth of his feelings for her. Laura bit down her envy, then went on. "And although you're quite tight-lipped about her, I have a feeling she doesn't particularly approve of your _situation_."

"I asked her to come with me," Perry Mason tried to argue his case before he knew what he was doing.

"I'm sure you did," Laura nodded. "The way you asked her to run your office while you had fun with me in D.C.?"

Laura Parrish's words hit him hard. She didn't know anything about Della but still knew how to pinpoint his failures with her with mind-blowing accuracy.

"How come you always make it sound as if we had a intimate relationship?" Perry started to get annoyed with her. No one but Della was allowed to put a finger in his wounds.

"I like to daydream a little," Laura teased him to cover her frustration with him. "Don't be cross with me, Your Honor. It's all in good fun."

"Does Max think so too?" Perry felt his body stiffen at the mere thought of Della having banters like these with another man.

"He's seen your demure fire," Laura returned matter-of-factly, remembering her husband's factual acknowledgment of Della's beauty as they had watched the couple dance. "He's not worried."

The silence that fell upon them was heavy and Laura couldn't help but break it with her usual cheerful charm. "So will I see you on Friday?"

"Pick me up at court," Perry answered quietly and nodded. He could never be angry with her after all. "Let's just not talk about Della."

Laura agreed and sensed the pain she had seen in his eyes all those years ago when he had tried to cure his heartache by kissing her instead. By the way he said goodbye she knew he would tell her eventually and she would wait. Even if it took another eighteen years for her to finally meet the woman who knew how to pierce and mend the great Perry Mason's heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten**

Perry Mason was sitting in his chambers when the telephone rang. He glared at the phone in gruff astonishment, after all, it was only pushing 7am, no need for anyone to call him so early in the day. Pressing matters usually waited for him in the courtroom, carefully laid out in digestible little pieces, rarely thrown in his face before hours, tossing around his day. His secretary never showed up before nine, like most of the courthouse personnel which was why Judge Mason loved those quiet morning hours when no one interrupted his train of thought. Emergencies were a foreign concept to him these days, the urgency behind a motion a direct contrast to the life he had left behind. He remembered how he had liked the steadiness of his new job at first, the amount of time he had to study his cases with precision, never feeling rushed to come to a verdict. But increasingly, he found himself unable to sleep, and thus started his days earlier than he cared to admit to himself, the reason for his insomnia too obvious for him to face.

Four years ago she had slowly started living her life without him, rinsed herself from his love, had grown accustomed to the absence of his skin on hers. And what it came down to now, almost eight years into living apart, was holiday visits and the odd phone call he placed once in a while, trying to satisfy his need for her, something that left him drained and frustrated for he knew it only made her withdraw from him more.

As the phone kept ringing, he felt reminded of everything he used to have, of the pictures that kept him from sleeping since Della had last driven home, on the 4th of July, and left him alone again. He felt her lips pulsating against his, swollen from kissing him, hungry and hard. He felt her curves tormenting him like the proverbial forbidden fruit, so alluring yet out of reach.

The phone reminded him of the rush of excitement from a client's call, startling him awake, the desperation of a defendant's plea. He had long felt that his mind was slowing down, and now he finally admitted it, felt that pressure in his chest again, that ache for everything she used to give him without ever airing her grievances. It was anxiety, relentless panic that almost kept him from picking up. What if her voice was calling to say her definite goodbye? Who else would call him at ten to seven, knew he was brooding over a case? Who else but her had his direct number?

"Mason," the judge finally growled into the receiver as he finally picked up the phone, his tone sleep-fogged and quiet.

"Perry, it's me," she sounded shaky over the phone and Perry Mason could have sworn he heard her flutter her eyes to keep herself from trembling.

"Della," His voice cleared as he straightened up in his chair, feeling years being lifted from his shoulders and the burden of tiresome repetition eased by the mere sound of her voice.

"I need your help, Perry," his former secretary said, obviously still struggling to control her tone.

"What's going on?" Perry said seriously, aware of the noise surrounding her in the background. "Della, where are you?"

"I don't want you to get upset, Perry," Della answered him, immediately jumping into her habit of trying to protect him rather than herself. "I was arrested."

"Arrested?" Perry Mason started out of his chair. "For what?"

"For the murder of Arthur Gordon," Della responded meekly. It was obvious now that she was scared, deeply shaken by what was happening to her.

"What do they have on you?" Perry found his mind picking up speed again, tying in with a sense of priority he had long missed in his life.

"They found a dress covered in blood and a pair of muddy shoes," Della tried to convey the facts as professionally as she could. "They aren't mine," she continued as her voice threatened to break. "They look like mine but they aren't."

"I'll get you the best lawyer there is," Perry answered gruffly, interrupting the question she was now unable to ask, then circled his desk to gather his things. Car keys, wallet, jacket. "Don't worry, Della. We'll get you out of this," he tried to reassure her, immediately cursing the thought of missing the thrill of a life depending on his skills.

His decision was instant, a direct response to her voice so desperate and small. He signed his resignation, long prepared and in his drawer, evoking a sense of guilt for being elated to finally see her again.

* * *

><p>Della looked pale when he saw her a couple of hours later. She tried her best to pull herself together, could have fooled anybody but not the man who came running to protect her, without hesitation, without a doubt.<p>

Perry looked at her: she looked ravishing in her silky blouse, a light purple with a high collar, one of his favorite tints, complementing her deep brown eyes. Her hair curled up perfection, her makeup impeccable for the occasion, her legs embellished by a pair of high-heeled shoes.

As her lawyer he couldn't believe how she was holding up, until he finally held her in his arms. Only then did she let go, his words still sinking in, caressing her soul. He had resigned to come save her, had finally ended what kept them apart. It was good to have her back in his arms, and Perry couldn't help but close his eyes, tenderly comforting her in the shrill light of the room. He absorbed the emotions she so openly shared with him now that she knew he was there. He had grown tired of writing opinions, he hadn't lied, but her absence had been his hell, and her tears finally begged him to stay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven**

When the trial was finally over, Della sat in silence as Paul drove them home from an extended lunch in downtown L.A. She watched the buildings rush by on Santa Monica Freeway, good memories and bad clouding her mind.

Perry sat in the driver's seat and watched her in the side mirror, her face melancholy and sad. Paul Junior glimpsed at her in the rear-view mirror, then shot his front-seat passenger a worried look. He didn't quite grasp what had been going on since Perry's return to from San Francisco to get Della acquitted, but he knew he was beginning to be the odd one out.

"There you are," Paul finally said five uncomfortable minutes later and stopped the car in front of the house that was in Della's name.

"Thank you, Paul," Perry Mason answered with a dimple grin on his face. "I'm glad we made it," he added, referring to the private eye's uncomfortable car.

"Any time you need a ride." Paul nodded and grinned, well aware of Perry's disapproval towards his vehicle. Then he turned his head to share a laugh with Della who had often teased him for his wheels. He found her smiling at Perry as she took his hand to climb out from the back of his Wrangler car. It was the kind of smile he had caught her shooting at the broad-shouldered man during her trial, the kind of smile he had rarely seen in the past eight years. And he suddenly remembered a conversation he had had with his god-mom over Perry only a short few months ago.

_"I don't think Perry likes me very much," Paul Drake voiced with an annoyed sigh. _

_Della Street averted her eyes from the rear-view mirror and looked at him with his blonde curls and deep blue eyes. "Why would you think that? Perry is your godfather. He loves you like his son."_

_ "He sure doesn't make me feel that way," Paul added carefully, unwilling to hurt his god-mom's feelings. _

_ "Perry is a little gruff when he's busy," Della said tenderly, looking for an explanation for the strained weekend, unable to tell the boy the truth. "He doesn't mean to be abrasive."_

_ "He seemed pretty..." Paul was looking for the right words to express him impression. "Aggravated," he finally said._

_ Della nodded to herself. That he had been, but not with Paul whom she knew Perry loved deep inside, but with her for depriving him of some downtime and a physical encounter that went beyond the heated kiss she had given him upon their departure. _

_ "That had nothing to do with you, dear," Della replied honestly. "It had been so long since we'd last seen each other, I suppose Perry was a little cross with me for neglecting him."_

_ "He could've told me to get lost if he wanted to catch up with you on his own account," Paul offered sweetly, careful not to overstep a line his god-mom had always observed to draw._

_ "You know he would have if he had wanted to," Della answered truthfully. "Perry is never shy to ask for what he wants."_

_ "He seems to be when it comes to you." The comment escaped the young man's lips faster than he could stop himself from uttering it. "I'm sorry," he quickly added and noticed the sudden blush on his god-mom's cheeks. "It's none of my business."_

_ Della Street took a deep breath, fluttered her eyes and forced a sweet smile on her lips while her gaze was fixed on the road ahead of them. "There are a lot of things you don't know about Perry and me, Paul," she finally said in a perfectly smooth voice. _

_ "I remember my dad saying that you make each other very happy," Paul Jr. dared to continue a path Della had never allowed him to walk down before. He knew that his god-mom was a very private person, just like his absentee godfather up in San Francisco always had been. But something seemed to have changed this 4__th__ of July and Paul was concerned enough to care to know._

_ "Your father was a very sweet man," Della returned quietly, unable to hide the emotions in her voice. _

_ "He loved you dearly,"Paul gave back. "Mom once told me how jealous she had been of you in the beginning."_

_ "There was no need for that," Della said quickly. "You know that, don't you, Paul?"_

"_I do," the young detective reassured her. "Don't you worry, Del. I've just been wondering about you and Perry."_

_ "So have I," Della answered sadly, her eyes suddenly moist with tears. "So have I, for a very long time."_

From the car, Paul watched how Perry took Della's arm and led her up to the house like he used to back in the days when they had still been chasing murderers with the help of his own father. He smiled at a memory that seemed to be from another lifetime now. Perry Mason and his secretary coming to dinner after a long day at the office, sharing laughs with their detective friend and his family. Paul Jr. had loved to sit on Della's lap, had admired the bond of friendship he felt was running between his father and his two best friends.

"It's a rare thing these two have," his father had said one day when Paul Jr. had been prying on his god-mom and her employer friend, holding each other in an intimate embrace in the backyard. "And one day you'll understand how cursed they are as well as blessed."

It was that kind of smile Paul had recognized on Della's face, from those bygone days when she had seemed so much happier and so much more at ease with herself.

* * *

><p>Della unlocked the door with trembling fingers, shivering from a sudden breeze that enveloped her as Perry withdrew his arm to allow her to enter. It was an automatic response to hold out her hand to stop him from walking past her as she closed the door from the inside. She moved his arm around her waist and nestled herself against his big broad chest, tired of hiding her advances.<p>

"I've missed this," she whispered, her voice sultry and low. Then she moved one of her hands over his heart as if to feel it through his ribcage and smiled. "I've missed you."

Perry sighed, relieved to hear her say the words, relieved to know that now that the trial was over he would finally get to talk things through with her.

"It will take some time getting used to us again," Della interrupted his thoughts, tilted her head and teased his lips with hers to start a tender dance with him.

Perry pulled her closer and gently buried his right hand in her hair. "You sure haven't lost your touch, baby," he moaned, deepening their kiss that triggered a moany chuckle from Della released into his mouth.

"I tried to rinse you away," Della admitted ruefully as she gasped for air. "My feelings for you, your desire." Della moved around in his embrace to feel his hands caressing her belly and his lips grazing her neck. "But there's only so much loneliness I can take."

Perry held her tight, careful not to overwhelm her like he used to, savoring everything she was so eagerly giving to him again. "You could've just asked me to come home," he dared to voice then groaned as Della pressed her body seductively against his groin.

"Making you feel needed seemed so much more appropriate," Della answered in her best secretarial tone, meeting his playful mood.

"You're quick at laughing about the trial." Perry gently pulled her closer to enjoy how well she still fit with him. "There's no need to pretend this has been easy. Not with me."

Della closed her eyes to will away the bad memories of the trial, moved her hands over Perry's as he kept coddling her stomach and hips, then spoke seriously, "Promise me something, Perry."

"Anything," he replied smoothly, supporting his answer by tenderly kissing her cheek.

"Don't let me live my life without you again," Della pleaded with him in a broken voice. "No matter where you go, I don't want to be without you again."

Perry inhaled deeply, his lips still glued to the matured softness of her skin. Then he deepened his kiss and left bite marks on her neck. Her plea left him speechless, hungry for her touch again, this time however not to find release for himself but to give her what she deserved: all the happiness in the world.

It was their first night together again that released it all – the pain long locked away, stored in the back of their crippled hearts, pouring out from deep within them. As his lips grazed her naked skin, they finally put it behind them, the grief over their baby and the life they had longed to have. San Francisco and the deaths of their many dear friends.

It was that night that Della finally felt uninhibited in his arms again, kissed him with full abandon and invited him to ravish her into the morning. She didn't mind that age had slowed them down, indulged in taking her time and felt so young again when he made her blush with life.

It was the attention he paid to her again that unleashed a passionate dance that grew closer every month, every year, more intimate than before. They started traveling together, Los Angeles a mere home base now for them as they saw friends and tried cases all over the United States. Della loved their new lifestyle, the few intermissions of solitude when she visited her extended family or agreed to take a vacation from the buzzing business of Perry Mason's practice.

It exhausted them at times, the loss of a life in one place alone, then Perry's health and her concern. But it welded them together, those little crises, Laura Robertson, Michael Domenico or ruthless gossip reporters, nothing would separate them again.

"Let's move to Denver," Della suggested shortly after their godson's wedding. "We have so many friends there," she gasped as she lay sated in his arms, panting in the afterglow of an _I-love-you_.

Perry lay on his back, a depleted smile on his face. "Now that comes kind of unexpected," he said in a strained voice, fighting a blissful wave of fatigue.

"I'm serious, Perry," Della said tenderly and softly caressed his heaving chest.

"I see you are," Perry Mason answered and moved to his side to look deep into Della's sparkling eyes. "I really thought Denver would be the last place you'd agree to move to." He smirked mischievously.

"Certain disturbing factors are disposed of now," Della answered seductively.

Perry moved his fingers from her temple over her neck and shoulder, then over her arm and waist to her hips, forming goosebumps on her consumed body. "No hard feelings towards Colorado then?"

"Since when do I hold a grudge?" Della's reply bordered a husky moan. "Besides," she continued softly as she pulled her lover into a lingering kiss. "How could I blame an entire state for my distress with Laura Robertson?"

Perry held his breath for a moment – her bluntness caught him off guard but pleased him nonetheless - then closed his eyes as her tongue caressed his. Guilt crept up deep inside for so many things he had done to her over the years, his idiosyncrasies, his recklessness. He felt so blessed for her forgiveness, was humbled by her love. And he wondered if she knew that remembering her birthday without her wanting to celebrate it was his way of doing repentance for his sins.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve**

Denver was every bit as beautiful as Della remembered it from their many trips to her favorite state apart from California, the nature, ample possibilities to take Perry on spontaneous fishing trips or a hike. She loved being outdoors with Perry, and away from Los Angeles, although she missed Paul Jr. and his growing family.

Ken Malansky, Perry's young associate slowly became their substitute son as much as Melanie Benson had become like a grand-daughter to them. Della found that Denver had brought a lot of joy into her life, including a raving article about her influence on Perry's flourishing career and her participation in an "adopt-a-grandma" program.

It was a wedding invitation that flew in one early morning and landed on her desk that would change her life around again. Kaitlynn Parrish, pop sensation on the rise, and her fiance invited Perry Mason and guest. It went without saying that Perry asked her to come although Della's gut feeling told her there was more to this invite than he let on.

It was an unfortunate series of events that interrupted Della's usual calm when Perry confronted her with a secret from his past. Laura, Max and Kaitlynn – three members of his extended family she didn't know. Mrs. Parrish, another female lawyer, first name Laura, who was openly fond of Perry. Her daughter, the bride, both old and young enough to be Perry's own flesh and blood. And the weird way Laura Parrish observed her, Della Street, during Kaitlynn's nerve-wrecking preliminary hearing.

Della wasn't hasty at drawing conclusions about Perry and his relationships. She knew very well that he was a complex men who kept complex secrets, one of which she was herself. But Laura Parrish disconcerted her in a way she couldn't describe. It was like Laura Robertson all over again, the way she embraced Perry, had a spell over him. At least she seemed likeable, Della deemed, and very sweet to her after the happy outcome of her daughter's trial.

* * *

><p>"I really like her, uncle Perry," Kaitlynn Parrish said, pulled Perry Mason into a tight embrace and let go of him again moments later to finish dressing for the ceremony.<p>

"I agree," her mother added and buttoned up her daughter's dress. "She's every bit as charming as you've described her over the years. And every bit as capable."

"How come we've never met her before?" Kaitlynn asked, her eyes observing him in the mirror.

"Yes, Perry," Laura Parrish teased him, "how come?"

"You make it sound as if I've been hiding Della from you," Perry Mason answered unwillingly. He didn't enjoy being cornered like that.

"I think you did," Kaitlynn smiled at him with a wink. She enjoyed seeing her uncle squirm. "I already thought she was a myth," she continued teasing him. "Too good to be true. Della this, Della that." Kaitlynn chuckled.

"You wanted to keep her to yourself," Laura Parrish added joyfully."Every precious little piece of her."

Perry stood up straight and shifted his shoulders. And cleared his throat. "I really don't like when the two of you are in this mood."

Laura exchanged a mischievous look with her daughter in the mirror. "What mood?" She asked, and Kaitlynn followed.

Perry looked at them and shook his head. Then he heard the familiar warmth of Della's voice calling his name.

"There you are, Perry," she smiled at him as she knocked to enter the room, closely followed by Max Parrish.

"I see you found him," Max addressed Della with an approving pat on her shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He looked at Perry and continued.

"Of course," Perry said matter-of-factly, barely covering his relief to escape his previous conversation. Della looked at him as he walked passed her with a smirk on his face. "Why don't you ladies get further acquainted?" Perry placed a quick kiss on Della head and rushed out of the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" Max Parrish asked amused and adapted to Perry's pace.

"Not at all," Perry said as he turned around, already halfway through the door. "Della's timing, as always, is impeccable." He exchanged a smile with Laura and then with Della. "If you'll excuse us," Perry Mason added and disappeared in the hallway.

Della stood and looked after him with puzzled eyes and shook her head. When she turned around, Laura Parrish smiled at her in the mirror while she was busy fixing her daughter's bridal hair.

"I really didn't mean to intrude," Della started and prepared herself to leave.

"No, Della, please," Laura interrupted her. "Stay. We've just been talking about you."

Della wrinkled her eyebrows and answered her hostess with a polite smile.

"Please sit," Laura offered and pointed to a cushioned chair not far from the dressing table.

"Thank you." Della nodded, still unsure what Perry had gotten her into, and answered Laura's invitation with yet another warm smile.

"What do you think?" Laura Parrish asked as she fixed her daughter's hair with a couple of hair clips. "Too puffy?" She moved her head around the next-to-perfect creation with scrutinizing eyes.

"It's curly," Della replied nicely. "I like curly." She blinked her eyes and relaxed a little as Kaitlynn responded with a hearty smile.

"How long have you known uncle Perry?" Kaitlynn asked warmly.

"A little over forty years now," Della answered after a beat. Pictures of her job interview suddenly so vivid in her mind. Her first impression of him. Broad shoulders. His sparkly blue eyes.

"I had no idea you've been with him so long," Laura said amazed, her hands still busy embellishing her daughter's hairdo.

"Sometimes I can't believe it myself. Time flies working with Perry Mason," Della continued in her usual friendly tone. "Always keeps me on my toes."

Laura nodded and stopped Kaitlynn from nodding, too, in order to not ruin her hair. She grabbed a bottle of hairspray and perfected her daughter's bridal look with expert hands. Then she nodded her head again and looked at Kaitlynn in the mirror.

"There you go, sweetheart," she said sweetly and placed a kiss onto her daughter's cheek. "Now all you need is your jewelry."

Kaitlynn checked her reflection in the mirror and then checked with Della for approval.

"You look beautiful," Della chirped. She had always loved that fuss about a wedding, a bride.

Kaitlynn Parrish beamed at her and got up, careful not to step on her dress. Then she looked at her mother who handed her the jewelry box from the dressing table.

"Kaitlynn, honey," Laura smiled at her. "Would you mind asking your maid of honor to assist you with these?"

The bride shot Della a quick look and then saw her mother's affirming nod.

"I'd like to have a moment with Della, please."

"Of course," Kaitlynn answered and walked up to Della to squeeze her hands. "I'm so glad uncle Perry finally brought you along. That I finally got to know you."

Della smiled at the young bride. "So am I, dear." And looked after her as she disappeared in the adjoining room.

"I see you downstairs." Laura Parrish shouted in a hushed voice and waited for her daughter to close the door behind her. Then she moved over to Della and studied her face with a contradictory smile. "I've wanted to talk to you in private ever since Perry told me he had invited you to be his guest."

Della returned Laura's smile with mild inhibition.

"There's so much I want to know," Laura continued and sat in a chair right next to Della.

"What do you mean?" Della asked carefully, unsure how solid the ground was they were walking on.

"Oh, we both know the kind of man Perry is. Private. Busy. It's hard to get him to return a call." Laura offered.

"He always does when I know about it," Della returned without even knowing the point of her words.

"So I've heard," Laura said sweetly, sensing Della's caution towards her despite the warmhearted exchange in court after the trial against Kaitlynn had been dismissed. "You're very efficient organizing his office. His life."

"We've worked together so long," Della felt safe to reply. "I just know what he needs."

"You really do, don't you?" Laura tried to rekindle the feeling of understanding between them. "I can see he appreciates what you do for him. He holds you in very high esteem."

"I would expect him to tell me if..." Della started but was interrupted by the touch of Laura Parrish's hand on hers.

"Della, I hope you don't mind my being blunt," Laura said, her voice gentle and low.

"Not at all," Della Street answered and flickered her eyes to cover her uneasiness.

"See, I know you are more to Perry than only his secretary. I know he confides in you," Laura said in a friendly voice. "He trusts you with his secrets."

Della pursed her lips and refrained from shifting in her chair. She didn't want Laura to know that, emotionally, she was everything but prepared for this. On Kaitlynn Parrish's wedding day.

"Perry has talked so much about you," Laura continued. "I thought if there's one perfect woman in the world, at least to him, that's you."

Della inhaled sharply. She didn't want her emotions to surface so openly.

"In D.C., all those years ago, I was surprised to find out he hadn't been talking about his wife. His depiction of you was so intimate, so full of detail. And now I find you're exactly as he's described you. Right down to your smile."

Laura stopped for a moment and observed how Della lowered her head to avoid her gaze. She was obviously uncomfortable, but then her eyes looked right back up at her, steadfast, dignified. Laura Parrish nodded to herself. Exactly like Perry had said. Della Street was facing everything with polite gentleness. So she went on.

"Kaitlynn took an instant liking to you. She was impressed with the quiet way you handle Perry's quirks. Know how he ticks. She thinks you make him very happy."

"Perry is always happy when he works," Della answered warmly, her eyes calmly holding Laura's gaze.

"He's happy with you. He told me so when I asked him. When I asked him and his eyes were resting on you standing at the other end of the room," Laura Parrish answered heartily. "You know, Perry would stop his routine for his family, his closest friends. He's just proven to us that's what he does. And we're grateful for that. But there's only one person I know of he's ever quit anything for. And that's you, Della. For you he came running. To defend you."

Laura saw the emotions dancing in Della's eyes, no matter how hard she tried to will them away. "Now that I've seen him with you, I know he didn't exaggerate when he described you. Every time he mentioned you with a boyish smile. He loves you."

Laura caressed Della's hand as she heard her gasp. "Did back in D.C., twenty-five years ago, and does so now," she added and then looked at Della's moist eyes. "Did he ever really tell you about D.C.?"

"Yes." Della fought to make her voice sound steady.

"He saved my marriage. I guess that's what he admitted to," Laura said quietly.

"He said," Della cleared her throat and blinked her eyes to keep from crying. "He said you had filed for divorce."

"Was about to, yes," Laura concurred. "But he sat me down, listened to my problems and made me understand what I was about to give up. What I would lose if I put my career first." She paused for a second, then went on and gently squeezed Della's hand. "It was so obvious he knew what he was talking about."

Laura leaned in to Della and spoke quietly, hoping that her words would soothe her rather than hurt. "I'll be truthful with you, Della. We kissed one night. I'm not sure he told you about that. We were both lonely. Had too much wine."

Della looked straight into Laura's eyes. A stubborn tear had finally willed itself down her cheeks and made it unnecessary for her to nod. "I know."

"We kissed, and it was hard to hold back. His eyes. His arms," Laura smiled sadly at Della now. "But nothing came of it." Laura paused as she heard Della's sharp intake of breath. Her voice was trembling as she went on, her hands firmly tugged around Della's. "That's right. And do you know why? I mean, everything seemed to point to it. All those weeks of working together. His understanding. His smile."

Della squirmed and looked away.

"We kissed, we even...," Laura stopped, then continued. "It was only us until he spoke your name." Laura Parrish sought Della's eyes to look at her again. "That's when I knew. Knew for certain. All his praise. Far away from home, and all he wanted was to be with you."

Laura held her breath for a second and watched Della sobbing silently in her seat. "Now, you see, he never believed me when I told him we didn't spend that night together. He always seemed to fill in the blanks. Didn't want to know what had happened after I stopped him from making love to me with you on his mind. Or maybe he did and just felt guilty, I don't know. I've long given up on understanding Perry Mason, but here's what I wanted to say to you." Laura had a hard time controlling her own voice now. Della's face – unable to cover her reaction.

"Kaitlynn is not Perry's daughter. I think you are afraid she is," Laura gave Della a small smile at her almost painful sigh of relief. "She is not. Trust me. But I often felt she is the daughter Perry wished to have with you. That's why he doted on her so much when she was growing up. That's why he's here. Here with you."

Laura leaned in closer to Della and pulled her into a tight embrace. "See, Perry is my closest friend. And I love him very much. And he loves me. But I am not his wife. That's who you are to him. That's how much he cares for you. I'm here to tell you. I know. He loves you. And I see you love him, too. You are his family, Della. And because you are, you are part of my family, too." Laura held on to Della who was slowly regaining her composure. When she finally let go, Della looked at her with the same smile she had given her in the courtroom only a couple of days ago. Warmhearted. Understanding. Pure. With a sparkle of poise.

"Laura, Perry and I..." Della didn't know how to continue, tried to explain the misconceptions Laura Parrish had about her fears and the origin of Perry's feelings for Kaitlynn.

"It's all right. No need to explain." Laura returned her smile. "I'll check on Kaitlynn. You just take your time," she said and got up.

"Thank you," Della said under her breath and watched Laura Parrish disappear in the adjoining room. Then she got up and sat at the dressing table to touch up her makeup. Her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. Saw her eyes still darkened, wide. Laura's words still sinking in, merging with memories of her own. Della closed her eyes. Remembered Perry's voice, how he'd confessed his almost affair to her all those years ago. How he had started thinking about having a family. How badly they had coped with the loss of their baby. How it had been too late for her to try again at forty-five. How her body had refused to let her stir up that kind of pain again.

Della reopened her eyes and swallowed the memories. Nine years of struggling with their regret and so much loss. Then eight years apart.

Della tilted her head at the sound of music sounding up from downstairs. She smiled ruefully at herself. Got up and adjusted her dress. White, she noticed. She had picked a white dress for a wedding. Della shook her head and sighed. "You look beautiful," Perry had said to her with a tender smile when they had left. She had thanked him and replied with a flirty smile. Now she wondered if the subliminal had been lost to him.

When Della walked down the stairs, she scanned the hall for Perry's form. He stood with Ken, a red rose tucked in his buttonhole, so handsome in his festive suit and tie. He turned his head and met her gaze. His eyes were warm on hers and lingered. His smile bright when she walked up to him, caressing her from afar. His arm instinctively moved her close as he maneuvered them to their seats. His right arm in a sling, he switched their seating cards and gently nudged Della to slide into the left seat next to his. When she did, he softly laid his left hand on hers resting on her thigh. His thumb fondled her wrist as he leaned in to her to place a soft kiss against her temple.

"I don't know if I've mentioned it," he whispered, making her feel as if they were alone in a room full of people. "But I've always loved you in white."

Della closed her eyes when his lips touched her skin and smiled. "I know."

Perry squeezed her hand and turned around as the music started to introduce the bride. He got up and saw Laura rushing past him with a joyful smile on her lips. Kaitlynn looked at her mother, then at Perry. Then his eyes followed hers as they also rested on Della's and he moved his arm protectively around her waist.

"What did you talk about upstairs?" He asked, bewitched by the familiarity he found exchanged in a look Della also exchanged with Laura.

"Family matters," Della answered scantily and leaned in a little closer to him.

When they sat down again and the ceremony started, Perry kept Della close to him. He didn't mind Ken's telling smirk. His eyes were focused on Kaitlynn and her family. His hand busy caressing Della's waist. When Kaitlynn spoke her vows and exchanged rings with her fiance, Perry placed a tender kiss onto Della's head. His way to say I love you in a crowd, sometimes even whispered for only her to hear. On days like these, when his heart was doubling over. When he felt like asking her again. Felt she was dressed for the occasion. Made him long to take her home.

"Marry me," he heard his own voice whisper softly into her ear.

Della leaned her head against his lips to fish for another tender kiss. As he complied she shed her tears, smiled at the wedding kiss and whispered, "Yes."

* * *

><p>When they stood outside and saw the newlyweds taking off in their decorated car, the warmth of her voice caressed his ear. "Her father loves her very much."<p>

"Yes, he does." Perry agreed with a tender smile and held her tight. Finally she was his bride.


	14. Chapter 14

**Epilogue**

Della arrived late at the office after running some errands and found Ken waiting for her in his office.

"Good morning, Della," he said and pecked her cheek.

"Good morning, Ken," Della answered with a hint of skepticism in her voice. "What's going on?"

"Are you ready to release Perry from his sick leave?" He asked with a playful smirk on his lips.

"That depends," Della narrowed her eyes and rushed back into her office to attend to her usual morning routine.

"Depends on the gravity of the case I have to offer?" Ken challenged her with a boyish smile.

"Depends on the circumstances," Della answered sweetly and sat down to sort the mail.

"I had a potential client coming in last night," Ken sat in the chair across from her and started to make his case. "An old friend of Perry's."

Della looked up at him and then leaned back in her chair. "Name?"

"Laura Stevenson," Ken answered quickly but was interrupted before he could give her the details.

"Oh no," Della said briskly.

"It's a fiscal matter," Ken tried to reason with Perry Mason's head of office.

"Perry's unavailable," Della glared at him with stern eyes.

"Unavailable?" Ken laughed and stopped as he saw an unusual lack of benevolence on her face.

"Yes," Della insisted. "For the rest of the week. Or the rest of the month. However long it takes."

"I don't understand," Ken said matter-of-factly and tried Della to get more specific.

Della rested her elbows on the brink of her desk and glared at him. Her voice calm and crisp when she spoke. "We are done dealing with Lauras in this office."

"Says who?" Ken tried to challenge her but lost.

"The head of office," Della said and lowered her voice to emphasize the sincerity of her words, her tone dignified but bordering the relentless.

"Does Perry know?" Ken dared to ask and suppressed a chuckle. He had trouble reading the sudden radiance of her smile.

"He does," Perry's voice sounded from door as he walked past them into his office and answered Della's smile with his own.

"Good morning, Perry," Della said warmly and switched back into her secretarial mode.

Ken watched her getting up, her arm packed with files and mail and two takeout bags.

"Coffee's ready in a minute," Della chirped as she rested everything on his table, carefully sorted with few practiced movements of her hands.

Then she rushed out again and returned moments later with two cups of coffee in her hands. She grabbed a spoon and added a white substance into the cup she had prepared for him.

"I hope that's sugar," Perry said in a gruff voice.

Della clicked her lips and shot him a small, wicked smile. "What else would it be?"

"That sweetener you tried to get me hooked on was awful," he mumbled as he flipped his way through the files she had put on his desk.

"My lapse," Della hummed and mocked him at the same time. Then she walked up to him and placed the sugared coffee on his right-hand side.

"Thank you," Perry said without averting his eyes from the files.

"You're welcome," Della answered him and moved her hand over his neck onto his back in an intimate caress.

"Well, Mrs. Mason," Perry said with a sparkle in his eyes, "I find nothing has changed since your update last night."

"No, it hasn't," Della said and twirled Perry's hair with her fingers.

"Good." Perry looked up at her and gave her a loving smile.

Della's fingers were still curling his hair on the back of his head, softly massaging him. She stood close to him – like she always did. Flirting with him. Making him feel at home. A kiss tingling in the air. Always sizzling. Her knowledge of him, his trust. Their present. Their past. Business as usual at the office. Now as husband and wife.

** THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'm sorry that it took me so long to complete this, but those darn eight years apart were a real hassle. ;) Oh yes, and then there was some work I had to attend to. Those kinds of inanities, you know? :) So thanks for your patience and for taking the time to read y'all! Bless!**  
><strong>


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